#she only remembers beans name so she when she labels gifts from them it's 'bean and the gang' or she addressed a gift TO them as

[bunnyb34r]

I love how I've had the crabs for 8 years now and my mom still spells Scupa phonetically 😭

She sometimes gets bored when labeling Christmas present tags and she'll put the crabs and she always gets Gurkle right (when she remembers his name, he's been "and the other guy" a few times), easily got Speedy, but Scupa is always "Scoopa"

Which makes me think theres a knock off Scupa out there somewhere, an alternate universe maybe where his name is and always was spelt Scoopa

#marquilla #makes me laugh every year though #she only remembers beans name so she when she labels gifts from them it's 'bean and the gang' or she addressed a gift TO them as #'bean and crew' this year sgdgdgdg #other universe Scoopa that is like a blueberry hermit crab (blue) or equadorian and gurkle there is a purple pincher sgdgdggdgdgd #which would mean speedy was an ecuadorian there too #the party boys

[linkoln]

what’s up, beautifuls ！ the name’s mickey, she / her, twenty-six, and i’m super stoked to be here ！ this is my child lincoln, mapleview’s pop culture nerd who will accidentally leave you on read. you can check out these cute stats, some wanted connections, or his pinterest, but if you wanna dive deeper, i’ll try summarizing this guy’s bio down below ！

『 alex wolff. twenty-two. cis male. he/him. 』 oh heavens, is that LINCOLN ‘LINK’ ROCKWOOD from SYCAMORE WAY i see roaming around mapleview? minnie may’s always calling them -SARCASTIC & -UNKEMPT. i happen to think they’re not that bad! they’re a pretty cool CONCESSIONS ASSOCIATE at the MAPLEVIEW DRIVE-IN MOVIE THEATER and every time i’ve seen them, they’ve always been +CHARISMATIC & +ADAPTABLE. i hope i see them around again! 

BIOGRAPHY.

it’s safe to say that lincoln had fallen victim to the classic case of middle child syndrome. his family ( mainly his aunts and uncles ) often mentioning that he was the forgotten child during his elementary days, passing it off as a joke at reunion barbecues — though even he remembered getting lost in department stores where a clerk had to call for his parents on the overhead so that they could “ come and collect their kid “.

growing up in middle class suburbia was, as link would put it, like a wet, hot american summer. there were more cul-de-sacs than soccer mom minivans and more american flags on front lawns than there were starbucks on every street corner. the normal “ how you doin’ ? “ as he passed strangers on the street never failing to pair well with the southern nod and acknowledging smile.

he was frequently trusted with his own devices while his younger sister had dance and piano lessons, and his older brother had practice for whatever sport was in season. all because link’s lack of hand-eye coordination wound him up with a concussion and a broken nose that one time his parents thought it’d be a good idea to sign him up for soccer — in short, instead of picking up another extracurricular, link made his dent on the living room couch. getting lost in old VHS tapes and blueray DVDs.

his love for film and anything pop culture only escalated as he got older, resulting in him being the funny guy who quoted too many movie references in what would otherwise be a normal conversation. sarcasm and dry wit etching themselves onto his tongue, dramatizing his character. allowing him to finally stand out from the rest, despite the eye rolls and facepalms he’d usually receive once he opened his mouth.

link relied on his comedic timing, having been labeled the “ forgotten one “ or the “ guy lacking ambition “ for long enough. almost going out of his way to break out of the cookie cutter mold he grew up in, never shying away from explaining the toxicity of football fanatics to his uncles or bringing up liberal comments in rather conservative settings. twisting his phrases comically, albeit a little condescendingly.

not that he tried to be the smartest one in the room. but he did have the tendency to throw in his two cents, most likely when it wasn’t warranted.

soon he was off to college where he changed his major four times in his first semester, just going through the motions of a dorm filled life until he eventually stumbled upon his favorite subject : popular culture. thinking the major entailed continuous reruns of the bachelor or seinfeld. though, thankfully his mind was blown much further than that.

he was pretty pretentious whenever asked about what he was studying, his high brow mainly stemmed from believing his major was the superior of all majors. however, if asked about what he was going to do with it once he graduated, he’d more often than not veer the conversation in another direction and offer a hit of his joint.

now that he was officially a graduate, he still didn’t know what the heck he wanted to do as a career. shutting his laptop down every time he so much as browsed for jobs for ten minutes straight. always holed up in his room, content with ignoring adult responsibilities as well as his parent’s interrogation questions: how are your savings looking ? did you hear about your brother’s promotion ? are you sure you’re happy working at the drive-in theater ? 

and sure, he’s desperate for a way out. but at the same time, he’s comfortable at home and it’s not like he has the right friends to challenge his status quo. instead they let him settle and constantly get high, listening to link talk about moving out one day, but never actively holding him to that.

catch lincoln working concessions at the drive-in movie theater or mozying his way around town. he’s usually got tangled headphones in with a joint tucked between his lips — just don’t tell his mom or dad, however.

AESTHETICS.

overflowing laundry baskets, messy sheets & an unmade bed, six to seven cups of black coffee, tangled knots of headphones, ignored alarms, breaking the silence, cell phones falling out of pockets, tangled & unkempt hair, forgetting to floss for a week

HEADCANONS.

he has a hard time with complete silence, so he’ll be the first to talk in order to keep the momentum alive. though some of his friends think it’s just because he likes hearing the sound of his voice — which one, rude, and two, he just doesn’t deal with uncomfortable situations very well.

let me to you, this boy drops everything. his phone, drinks, full plates of food. he was gifted with butterfingers and has yet to realize that he shouldn’t be responsible for other people’s possessions because more likely than not, he won’t return the thing the way he found it.

he’s like a vacuum. he inhales his food. when he visits family, his mother always reprimands since she thinks he’s not enjoying what’s put on his plate. in reality, though, he has the munchies and just needs to eat all the things.

he wasn’t the greatest student. in fact, sometimes he was plain lazy when it came to doing his homework. but he got good averages and got lucky on tests, so it’s enough to make potential employers happy. or so he hopes.

if you look at his family and you look at link, you’ll wonder if the guy was dropped on his head as a kid because he’s like a black sheep. totally different ideals, can’t catch a ball to save his life, and the last time he tried grilling meat on the grill, he almost burned the backyard down — he’s now only allowed to toss together a salad at family barbecues.

this boy, this child, drinks way too much coffee / energy drinks. which is why his knee is constantly bouncing when he’s seated or he’s always shifting his weight when he’s standing. seriously, someone get him to drink something that’s not bean water. and beer doesn’t count !

#mapleviewintro

[wolfyduskk]

KHOC WEEK~Day 2

Bonds of the Heart/Ties That Bind

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@khoc-week this one is gonna be a long one sorry bout that!

I’m going to try it kinda like most to least? but leave out some characters she does get close with for the sake of time >~> ANYHOW

#1 being Cleo Maiyu: Her Mama

“Tell them to sort it into this months invoices then mail out th-“

*...* “No I promised starlight i’d spend the day with her & you already took up all of our morning.”

*click* “Where to next Audri?”

“Book house mama!”

“It’s a store but you were close..”

•Cleo, even though it’s not her ideal career, worked at a desk job that payed well in order to support the little family they formed. Not saying that’s all she did for Audri, not at all! If she was needed by Audri, Cleo would drop everything to tend to her. She would accept every gift and proudly wear it or hang it up for everyone to see, giving her gifts & praise to try to make sure she knows she’s loved very much.

Audri’s health & safety is her top priority & willing to do anything to ensure it, wither it be a stern talk or a fist fight. That being said when Audri is sick even if it’s not major, won’t be allowed to lift even a finger in fear of making it worse & losing her.

While growing up Audri understood that work was important & usally left her to work when she worked from home but would stop in to drop off small gifts she made, coffee, or even a peaceful rest with the help of her colourful friends before their home fell & Audri vanished.

#2- Zeke Maiyu: Her Uncle ZeZe

“You sure you want to use this polish Dri? There’s prettier colours-“

“SHh NU! You love love green so its one of the prettiest colours too!!”

In the early years Audri was home schooled due to all the possible illnesses she could get in public schools & private school being to expensive. So since he worked completely from home, Zeke became her teacher during the weekdays & taught her things benifeical to her like reading, writing, cooking, health, as well as things that interested her like astrology & flowers.

They would have days where they would leave home to learn outside or just to play. Audri would alway wonder out of eyesight, (which was easy with technically one eye on you)(sorry not sorry) but never to hard to find again if you followed her giggles or her friends.

(Note:Zeke & Cleo are not mine, they belong to a close friend of mine)

Isa/Saïx

“I-Isa! Lea took off with Prof.Hoots again!”

“Don’t worry Audri, I’ll bring the Professer back & try to knock some sense into that dummy before your mother does..”

•The days she was allowed outside, she’d either go to the castle or look for her older friends who honestly play more of an older sibling role in Audri’s life, with Isa taking a more caring & mature sibling place, while Lea takes a teasing/bully but still fun & kind sibling role.

She bonded with Isa the quickest due to their love of the night, as well as to her, He was more comforting to be around since his personality is something she’s grown up with compared to her other ‘big brother’ Lea, who is much louder & competive. Not to say she dislikes his loud personality, just odd when it’s not her being the only extrovert anymore.

•Months after the fall Saïx would be the one to find her at the doors of Castle Oblivion with a large scar over her front & her once sparkling eyes dulled. Her body somehow survived & became a nobody.

She’d be seen at the start clinging to the back his coat as he was the first she saw & most familiar to her memory wise at the time. Although not an official member, she was given a new name, Aidrux & once more independent, missions.

Even though he became colder over time, he still took his brotherly role seriously with what little hearts he had over the years, just as she once more memories came back would care & help him as much as she was able. She’d stay by his side more once Axel started to stray away from them for Roxas & Xion.

•

Ienzo/Zexion

Ahh the extrovert adopts the introvert~ good quality content with that right there ANyway

“-And then we can make a super big flower like the book with the bean stalk and we’ll touch the stars!”

“...that’s not scientifically plausible Dri”

“Anything is possible when it’s you & me!!”

“..Still think we could make that gaint flower?”

“Thought it ‘wasn’t plausible’. Remember?”

“With you? ‘Anything is possible’ Dear”

“...Dork~.”

•With the tendency to explore unsupervised, it would’ve been only a matter of time before these two would meet. despite the tough shell Ienzo had, instead of breaking it with trying to make him talk, she waited for him to hatch on his own accord, by bringing small books or art supplies to work on silently with a few comments here & there. She knew forcing him to talk would only make it harder.

In time he did start talking although not by much, but enough to hold a conversation which made Audri practically shine when she heard him talk. The small talks the had honestly funny if you were able to hear them, from plans of the future to multi-coloured animals, they’ve talked about it all almost.

•Zexion was a big change to Aidrux once she remembered, but that didn’t mean she didn’t try over the years. Whether it be old books or the small remark there, she tried & forunatly so did he. With illusions of flower fields & cheeky statements, they became close again, well as close as you could get with no hearts anyway.

•Once whole again they weren’t really sure what to do with the sudden massive rush of emotions that filled them when they met up again, it scared both of them to the point they avoided one another for a while till that feeling became unbearable.

They can’t think of the right word to label their relationship but they know they care about eachother differently compared to the others, but not quite love..

But maybe in time it will.

Xemnas

•Oddly enough? He felt kinda safe to her even after she remembered he was the reason she was nobody. He didn’t mind her presence really, she was useful & benifited the Orginzation.

But, something remembered her, and not from when he was an apprentice no. Something before that, but what?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As for people she dislikes/hates/uncomfortable with?

•As a child she never felt completely comfortable with Braig, there were the rare times she felt okay but never completely. To this day she still isn’t sure why, but she’ll get an idea why soon.

•During KH2 hands down for a time, H A T E D Sora, as far as she knew, he was trying to stop them from getting their hearts back, stopping her from being with her family. (Id be mad to if banana shoes over here started basically destroying years of planning/ work) She knows the truth now, but being near him all alone still sparks some negative feelings.

•As childish as it is, any man with yellow eyes. She doesn’t remember completely how she got to RG but knows that a male with those eyes took her there & feeling scared.

that’s all I can think of atm but pretty proud of how much I did today! See y’all tomorrow

I have to admit tho out of Lea & Isa, I’ve always liked Lea more so its a little funny how little he’s mentioned lol.

#kingdom hearts #khoc week #khocweek2020 #ocs #friends ocs #would kh have flip phones?? #i mean they had super comupters so why not? #they got to basiclly iphones in kh3 so #that is the best i will ever draw isa calling it now #bananaboysora

[thedungeonsbat]

Muggle Love (Chapter 14)

Chapter 14

You woke up tired to find Erebus snuggled beside you on your bed, you must have left the window open. He looked so adorable and you had to fight the urge to cuddle him right there. A good way to wake up, you thought. And then you realised what his arrival meant.

There it was, tied to his leg was a piece of parchment and a box. Erebus looked very tired so you decided not to wake him up. Without disturbing him, you untied the package from its leg carefully. You wondered how hard it must have been to carry it all the way from wherever Severus was to here. But when you lifted the packet it felt light like a thin sheet of paper.

'Wow..' You said while weighing it in your hands. This sort of magic would have been so useful to all wizards, you thought. You were impressed once again, you would never be done with admiring his skills. How you longed to be like him and to be a part of his world.

You unrolled the parchment tied with a deep green ribbon, the box was wrapped with the same.

The words on the letter were blurry because you had just woken up. You rubbed your eyes, stretched and yawned. You tried to read again and this time with better vision.

Your face melted into a smile as you began reading it. You side-glanced the pack lying next to you now. You continued reading the letter and instantly took the box in your hands, eyeing it with eyes filled with interest. You quickly unwrapped it and opened it to find all the wizard sweets Severus had sent.

At first, you were slightly confused because they all looked normal but when you read the labels, you realised they were not ordinary at all. They were wizard sweets!

Of course, they were. You smiled broadly as you re-read Severus' letter. But what did he mean by being 'careful' with these? They are just chocolates and candies and cakes. What could they do?

You got your answer when you tasted a soap flavoured bean. You somehow managed to not spit it out. Hopefully, the others would taste fine. You also checked a box full of chocolate frogs, you were not very interested in tasting these, they were even hopping around like real the ones.

More interesting were the cards with these, they had pictures of many people which when you read the cards realised, were witches and wizards. The one you opened had a moving elderly wizard named Armando Dippet. 'Fascinating' you said to yourself starting at them with gleaming, wide eyes.

It felt like Christmas. Waking up to find a present by your bedside. It was almost like reliving your childhood.

____________________

You began accepting the fact that you might like Severus and want something more than just a friendship with him. But you were still very afraid of what might be the result of this.

You wanted to talk about it, it was hard to keep all of this to yourself but you couldn't possibly risk revealing who Severus is in front of anybody. Not even your Dad or Carl or Holly, who still, by the way, tried to squeeze something about the 'mystery guy' out of you. She was very good at it though. Carl just usually commented and teased you during your daydreaming sessions.

You wondered if Severus was thinking about you or if it was just you, he did mention he cared in his letter. It meant a lot to you. Everything he had ever said and did mattered.

After a long while, you came across your old sketchbook. You hadn't had much time for hobbies lately, it was mostly just your studies dominating your time-table. You dusted it off and went through it, eventually you came across Severus' sketch which you drew long ago. You noticed you did not do his nose so right.

You drew another one that day, much more detailed, with the exactness of each and every one of his features, especially the hands and eyes. His eyes seemed empty yet were so deep when he was nearer. You missed those moments you shared.

________________________

Many of your feelings were shared by him and one more was the need to share, to talk and to express. It was rare, very rare in fact when he got into a talkative mood. Surprisingly (or maybe not), he wanted to talk about the same things as you, how he felt towards you...

Severus counted each passing day as it meant that the end of the term was one day nearer. Even though be had more important issues to focus on, his thoughts drifted to you. The sweet smile you were always ready to give, your gentle voice and something he'd love to experience more, your caressing touch.

To his satisfaction, you wrote to him more frequently and he replied in just a few words which did not satisfy you. In your most recent letter you had mentioned your plans on Christmas, you were going to visit your father and brother but would return to London before New Year. Only then he remembered there was another holiday coming up and this time he would not forget bringing you something.

During the small breaks he had between classes, he wondered what would be suitable as a gift for you. In this situation not even Malfoy would be able to help him, what would he know about your taste. Also, it would be extremely weird for him to ask his student something like that and he certainly did not want any rumours flying around.

He couldn't think of anything at all. He failed miserably at coming up with even one idea. He indeed was bad at it. He shouldn't be blamed though, he had never met anyone worthy of this kind of affection from him. That was before he bumped into you at the railway platform. When he thought about it, a smile automatically appeared onto his face. It all felt like yesterday but the rare smile disappeared as soon as the seventh years Gryffindors and Ravenclaws began filling the classroom. Some girls whispered and giggled and Severus really wished they did not notice.

Back to his cold and dangerous self, he began the lesson. Lucky for the Gryffindor who messed up his potion, their professor was in a good mood and surprisingly indeed, he simply corrected him without taking any house points. A few Ravenclaws began whispering and the Gryffindors exchanged surprised looks.

____________

"Did you decide what you're gonna buy him?" Holly casually asked after turning the 'Open' sign hung on the shop's door to 'Closed' when finally all the customers had left and the cleaning was done. You occasionally helped her out with Carl.

"Uh-what?" You said with a hint of absent-mindedness. Carl smirked from beside you,

"Thinking of Severus, are you?"

"Oh shut up!" You snapped. He could really be very annoying for you sometimes, especially when he mentioned Severus, not that you did not like him but you did not necessarily enjoy them teasing you.

"So, have you?" Holly asked again. She saw the look on your face which made clear you hadn't heard her the first time, so she kindly repeated with a smile, "Have you thought of a gift to buy for Severus?"

You blushed a light shade of pink and replied softly, "Oh.. That's actually been hard to decide..."

Carl looked as though he was going to say something, another teasing comment perhaps, but Holly silenced him with a glare.

"Why don't I help you? We can go shopping and get to spend some time together." She suggested.

"Yeah, I guess you're right but I don't really know what he likes. He doesn't really show a particular interest in anything exce-" You cut yourself mid-sentence. You were close to letting something spill. "I told you he isn't very chatty." You quickly added before they could question you.

"You'll figure it out," Carl said.

"Hmm, I hope so." You muttered and you continued walking.

Carl began talking about a new movie that was out and soon the conversation led to one thing and another and you ended up having a good walk home. You were left alone with Carl as Holly bid you goodbye.

He didn't say much and for the first time in months, you were the one to break the silence.

"When are you gonna ask her out?" You said. Carl turned to you with his eyebrows raised but you could clearly see him blushing a bit.

"I-I'm sorry, w-what?" He said and his bewildered expression caused you to burst out laughing.

"Don't think I haven't noticed. It's obvious." You said. He took his time to make sure you were talking about what he thought you were talking about.

He looked down again and his cheeks went even redder, "I don't know." He sighed and went on, "I don't want to spoil our friendship, you know? It's so great this way, what if it doesn't work out?"

Even if you were sometimes not paying complete attention to your surroundings, you had noticed the way Carl behaved around Holly. From the way he looked at her, it was pretty clear he liked her.

You rubbed his arm and gave him a sympathising look, "I understand." You said and smiled amiably at him.

True, you did understand. It was what you were afraid of too, ruining what you had with Severus. You would hate that and you understood Carl was not only scared of endangering his friendship with Holly but also it would get a whole lot awkward with you and her if things didn't work out (fingers crossed, hope things do work out for them).

You hugged Carl goodbye after one last reassuring smile.

____________

Several students lurked around Severus in the corridors trying to figure out why he was behaving more unusually than ever before. Why he was sometimes too cruel and then suddenly too kind was a topic of interest for many students.

Severus tried to ignore them but their curiosity only grew when his owl would swoop in among all other owls during breakfast, sometimes the black owl was spotted giving him letters in the corridors. One such time was in the presence of McGonagall whose eyebrows shot up and then furrowed in confusion. All she got in reply was an angry look from Severus.

"Who d'you reckon has been sending Snape so many letters?" Ron asked Harry before stuffing his mouth with a toast.

"No idea," Harry replied looking at the staff table, his eyes fixed at Severus as he pocketed another piece of paper and stroking Erebus' feathers. "I don't think even his family would write to him." He added through gritted teeth.

"That's mean, Harry. He's our professor." Hermione said.

"Who deducts house-points because you know the answer!" Ron complained.

"He hasn't taken any, even from Gryffindor, in weeks." Hermione protested.

"That is what's weird. Is he alright though?" Harry said, finally turning to his food.

"Who cares?" Replied Ron.

"I hope Professor Lupin's alright," Harry said in a concerned tone.

Hermione rolled her eyes, even though she wasn't very fond of their Potions Master either, she at least admired him as a skilled teacher.

The golden trio wasn't the only one discussing him. Most of the Slytherins had been discussing it too and there were all sorts of theories they made. Altogether, his snakes were happy to see their Head in a better mood.

McGonagall wouldn't miss any chance to interrogate him but got nothing out of him, after time she just settled with the fact that maybe he was just happy and there is nothing wrong. Ponoma took it all very well and always smiled delightfully at him whenever he passed her. And then, of course, Dumbledore got a bit oddly puckish, even more than before.

Severus was receiving more attention than ever and he wasn't enjoying it, he never liked to be the one whom everyone gossiped about. Though he was enjoying the reason, which was you.

__________________

Thanks for reading!

__________________

@smokindoinksinthejungle

@princetale

@radspencerreid

#snape #severus snape #fanfic #half blood prince #pro snape #severus #severus imagines #severus snape imagines #severus x reader #snape community #snape fanfic #snape imagines #snape love #snape x reader #snily #writing #muggle love #hogwarts #harry potter imagines #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #slytherin #alan rickman #rickmaniac #potterhead #snapehead #x reader #snape x you #snape x muggle #snape x y/n

[mentalmimosa]

an inconvenient gift

It happens like this: they fail. It doesn’t matter how; it doesn’t matter why. But they do.

Later, when enough years have passed that Tony can reflect without bitterness, he’ll wonder if the universe was sending them a message, time after fucking time, which was: sit down, shut up, and live.

It wasn’t something either of them were particularly good at. Steve, the man of perpetual motion, and him, a brain with legs and a fifty dollar smile that was wired the same way; it was hard for him to wind down ever, to get his brain to zip it long enough for him to get good solid rest. It’s worst, at first, in the past.

But then, after a couple of years of futility, of tinkering and chasing and fake mustaches, of cursing 70s tech and the Bee Gees on the radio, of hope leaking slowly away, Steve gets a brilliant idea: they’ll tell Peggy. One of the few people in the world they’ve actively had to hide from who just happens to work with Tony’s dad: yeah sure, Rogers, we’ll stroll right into her office and spill the hey we’re time travellers! beans.

“And ask for help,” Steve says, his face placid and serious. “We can’t do this on our own, Tony.”

Tony curls closer and rucks up the sheets, closes his eyes against the warm spread of Steve’s neck. “What if she freaks the fuck out? What if she doesn’t believe us?” He shudders. “Worse, babe, what if she does?”

“Then we’ll have a fighting chance of getting back, that’s what. If anybody in this whole crazy world will have our back, it’s her.” A chuckle, a long, solid squeeze. “Or your dad.”

“Fuck no. I don’t care what anybody said about paradoxes not being a thing; I’m not risking this whole thing going Marty McFly.”

Steve yawns and reaches out, snaps off the bedside lamp, settles the room into darkness. “I missed that one. Is it from a movie?”

“Yeah, remind me. I’ll tell you about it sometime. It’ll come out in about a decade. If we’re still here, I’ll take you.”

“Mmmm,” Steve says. His lips brush Tony’s forehead. “Don’t worry. We won’t be.”

In the end, they decide not to crash Peggy’s office. They’ve spent too much time over the years sneaking on and off that damn base. No, they visit her at home. Ring her doorbell and everything, right there in goddamn New Jersey, and when she opens the door, Walter Cronkite is on the TV behind her and she’s sort of brandishing a gun.

The first few moments are tricky. It gets easier after that.

When she sees Steve, really sees him, first under the porchlight and then inside in her living room, her face is the portrait of absolute heartbreak and joy and then love, thick and shining. Love. Love.

But she doesn’t loosen her grip on the gun. Not until Steve says her name again softly, until he peels off his cap and smiles, this lopsided little thing; a hint, Tony thinks, of the kid he used to be, and then and only then does she lay the pistol on the coffee table without taking her eyes off of him and then Steve’s holding her and she’s holding him and her shoulders are shaking and Steve’s eyes, when they find Tony’s over the top of her head are damp and incredibly bright.

Tony isn’t surprised when Peggy kisses Steve, but he’s surprised when Steve kisses her back.

He makes himself scarce in the kitchen for a while, running his fingers over the neat formica counters, the carefully arranged pots and pans. Not one damn thing there is out of place. Except, he thinks ruefully, with a flair of the old unfamiliar green--except him.

“So you’re Howard’s son?” Peggy says later, when she’s fixed her lipstick and Steve’s dried his eyes. “Really?” She squints at him and smiles, a pretty quirk of her lips. “Well, Anthony, I’m glad to see my godson turned out so well.”

“Huh?” Tony says in the same instant Steve wheezes: “What?”

She looks at them like they’ve both just had a stroke. “I’m your godmother,” she says. “I was there at your christening--unlike your father, but let’s set that aside. I promised before God and everybody to offer you my guidance and counsel, help you make your way through the word.” She frowns. “Hang on, did I not do it then, where you came from? When you came from. Was I not there for you?”

Tony swallows, feels a swoop of old, tired anger. “Ma’am, until today, when I come from, we’ve never met.”

Peggy’s face goes full fury, zero to oh shit just like that, and god help anybody, Tony thinks, who was ever foolish enough to stand in her way. “I,” she says precisely, “am going to do everything in power to help you get back if only so I can tagalong with you and kick Howard Stark’s ass.”

“Oh,” Tony says to Steve later, when they’re crowded together in the shower, “I can see how you could fall in her love with her, babe. So fucking easy.”

“She scared the piss of out most people, back in the day.”

Tony leans back into the soapy hum of Steve’s fingers, tries to forget the way Steve had sighed when their mouths met, the way those big hands had looked spread over the curve of Peggy’s back. “Yeah. Exactly.”

****

Over the coming months, two things become clear to Tony: Peggy’s assistance is invaluable, the best they could have hoped for. It’s also not enough.

Ok, twist his arm; there are three. The third being: the love of his life is in love with the girl he left behind, but she’s not a girl anymore and her reserve of hesitation is minimal, at best.

They don’t hide their relationship from her. How could they? Especially once she makes a wholly logical and completely transparent case for them to move in with her. They cart over their mountains of papers and buckets of electronic knick knacks and she gives them the guest bedroom and shows them where she keeps the laundry soap and the trash bags and the guns. Tony spreads out in the basement, where she’s already got a bit of a lab, and Steve makes his nest in the den, books everywhere, stacked neatly, papers arranged in diligently-labeled boxes that when the curtains are open and the sun shining in, he’s careful to keep out of sight.

It makes sense for them to have a central operating base, as Peggy calls it. Really, it does. But it also does not with a capital D because in the small hours of the night when Steve is inside him, murmuring pretty nonsense against his cheek while shoving in and in and in, Tony can’t forget who’s on the other side of the wall, what she can hear if she’s listening: the grunt of Steve’s breath and the high whine of his own. The steady, unmistakable creak of the bed. In the morning, when they’re sitting at the kitchen table like civilized people talking quantum mechanics and the fluid nature of the time stream, Tony watches Peggy drink coffee, eat grapefruit and toast, and wonders if she’d awakened the night before and heard them moaning and wound her fingers over her breasts and between her thighs and imagined that she was the one Steve was fucking, her body the one that was making him sound like that, her hands braced on his biceps as he tucked their foreheads together and came and came and came.

“Anthony, you’re staring.”

“What?”

He blinks and Peggy’s got an eyebrow raised at him, her knife poised over a new slice of toast. “You went full fathom stare there,” she says. “What, have I got jam on my face?”

He stammers something and hides behind his coffee cup. It’s fine. The conversation moves right along.

But his mind, the bastard that it is, won’t let the idea go once it’s clamped its jaws around it. They kiss sometimes, she and Steve; a little peck in the morning, marmalade-flavored, or a smooch on the cheek goodnight. No more sweet lingering things like the first day they’d come, when they’d found each other, each touch of their lips peeling back one of those long, lost years. But that spark between them hasn’t gone anywhere, oh no, it’s just ticked up into a higher, unrequited key, and the longer Tony lives with them, the more time the three of them spend together, the more the green in him softens, sweetens, like a pint of Ben & Jerry’s (fuck, hurry up and invent yourself, damn it!) left out in the afternoon sun. Steve loves him, he knows that, and when they got tossed here, they’d only just gotten each other back. He remembers that ache, that cherry pit of emptiness; through all their arguments, their stupid separation, he’d missed Steve so goddamn much that some days, he thought he would choke.

He looks at Peggy, cool, beautiful, brilliant Peggy, and mentally compounds his, what, three or four years of angst with by several decades and jesus, he can’t imagine what that must have felt like, what it must feel like, because here she has this man she adored living in her house and smiling at her and not making love to her every goddamn fucking day and how her heart isn’t in ashes on the fucking floor, Tony has no earthly idea.

And they’re gorgeous together. That’s the killer. The silver strands in her hair and the dark blond of his, when they’re closer together. The fight in her eyes, the shine, when she looks at him; the softness--dear fucking god, it kills him--that Steve’s drown in when he looks at her.

They can’t spent all of their time fighting the good fight, the two of them, can they? Can’t spend this extra time, this inconvenient gift from the universe, denying what they feel on Tony’s behalf.

No, he decides one evening while he’s washing the dishes, while they’re in the den watching Cronkite, hell no. He won’t let them mess up this chance, too. All they need is the right kind of push.

#stony #steggy #alt take on endgame #f u marvel

[quitethepirategal]

Alphabet Headcanons!

List a headcanon that correlates with each letter of the English Alphabet. Can you list that many? It’s harder than it looks! Any tidbit of information counts, from the simplest fun fact to the lengthiest lore!

A - Red Jessica is an Aries. Her moon sign is Taurus and her rising is Leo. She’s also a cusp baby, giving her Pisces leanings.

B - She has quite a few books in her massive library, but her favorites are The Art of War, Anthony and Cleopatra, On the Origin of Species, The Prince, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, Frankenstein, and Treasure Island. She reads more textbooks than anything else tho. She really wants to like Jane Austin but she just... can’t.  ( unrelated, I was trying to figure which Shakespeare play would be Jess’s fav and found this. Y’all I screamed. )

C - Cats are her favorite animal. Any kind of cat. The grace, the lore, the silliness, the toe beans; they’re majestic little idiots and she loves them. She has two of her own. Sasha and Rosie. Jessica’s loved cats since she first made friends with one as a very little girl and she remembers every cat she’s ever had or been friends with.  Her first cat was an alley cat that followed her around that she uncreatively named Katjie

D - Dutch Afrikaans and English are her native languages, she grew up speaking both. However, she hasn’t really needed to speak Afrikaans since her mother died, and is no longer fluent as a result. Her first word was “Ahoy” but her second word was “geld.”

E - Red Jessica has some ridiculous eating antics, as a result of living in starvation from birth to late childhood and living as a pirate from then on.  She can bite directly into onions and garlic cloves as if they were apples, will eat ( or save ) the bones and fat of any meaty meal, can eat an entire apple- core included, loves to eat or chew on citrus peels and raw herb leaves, has a somewhat high tolerance for both spicy things and alcohol, and, like all pirates, has learned to tolerate most rotten/stale/moldy/expired food.  On top of that, her pursuit in studying biology and botany crowns her as probably the ONLY person in all of the Neversea who knows what nutrition is and how it works. Also eating avocados make her ears itch.

F - One of Jessica’s signature mannerisms is putting her fists up by her face. When excited or overjoyed she’ll shake them and when shes shy she’ll kind of hide her smile with them. She rests her chin on her fists, holds them still by her jaw when waiting in suspense, and its immediately where her fists fly to when startled or snuck up on ( with the exception of when shes armed, to which her hands fly to her hilt or holster ).  This mannerism makes complete and total sense considering shes a trained kick boxer.

G - Gardening is her absolute favorite stress reliever and you can pry it from her cold dead hands. Just bury your problems in the dirt my dude.

H - Her curly ginger hair is certainly one of the first things you notice about her and she takes very good care of it; a wash every two days, plenty of oils, vinegar once a week for dandruff. Her curl type is 3a.

I - Red Jessica is a closeted artist and frequently engages in illustration, and while this mostly comes in handy for taking illustrative botanical notes, her other favorite subject is the human figure. Specifically, the human figure of people she finds attractive or has a crush on.  And if you ask she’d be happy to try and draw you! Though she isn’t what you would call amazing she is somewhat talented- with her drawings having very technical, anatomical, and minimalist influences. She also like to sketch pastoral scenes when out in her fields.

J - Jessica was a name her father picked out, naming her after his first love.

K - She remembers her first kill. At 13 she was involved in a skirmish and lunged at a man out from under a table with a rapier. She remembers the exact look on his face, and recalls it with pride. First kill is a right of passage to pirates.

L - Jessica’s love language is all over the place, but can be narrowed down to gifts, words, and quality time. Arrogant suitors, take note because Jess will literally never shut up about you; she will brag about you, remind you of your achievements, praise you for your talents, be proud of you, will show you off, insist to EVERYBODY that you’re the best, and in some cases, spoil you.  This goes for friends too, of course but this all goes especially for whoever she has a crush on or is courting her. She JUST!! LOVES STROKING PEOPLE’S EGOS!! Speaking of spoiling, she’s a total gift giver.  No reason or occasion needed whatsoever; she is the QUEEN of  “ I was thinking of you so I got you a little something.”

M - Jessica is really really weird when it comes to materialism.  At a first glance, shes as avaricious as they come. She hoards beauty in the form of an art collection that graces her fine chateau’s halls and eminence gardens of gorgeous flowers.  She is a little crazy about treasure too, never missing an opportunity to treasure hunt, and has been known to loan-shark a time or two.  But in actuality, as made apparent through getting to know her, she isn’t really greedy or possessive at all.  Yes she loves pretty things and yes she is great at making money but believe me when I say that she is in the treasure hunt for the hunt more so than for the treasure.  Were she somehow to loose it all, money, island, treasure, everything, she’d be more concerned that whoever took her priceless art won’t take care of it.  In the best laid plans of mice and men, Jess is totally a mouse.  She’s lived the majority of her life owning nothing but the clothes she had on so, she’d just cut her losses and start over… come to think of it being wealthy is a bit boring…

N - Jessica has never been to Neverland. In my canon, only one pirate ( Hook ) was brave enough to ever set foot on that cursed island. Red Jessica, like the rest of the neverpirates, are too afraid. Most heard tales of an unbeatable foe and that the island itself is watching you, and that’s enough to keep Jessica away.

O - Oranges are her all time favorite food. She’ll eat anything with orange in it. Second favorite is crab or lobster. Third is pineapple chili sauce.

P - Her Myers-Briggs personality type is ESTP- a, the Entrepreneur.

Q - Jessica was Dread Pirate Grace O’Malley’s quartermaster. There are 9 Dread Pirates in the Neversea, each one being a legendary pirate of old, and they have the power to grant only the most talented pirates among them recognized captainship.

R - Red Jessica is is short for Red Handed Jessica for no reason other than I am Peter Pan ( 2003 ) trash.

S - Red Jessica’s crew is a sisterhood of sorts. While she is authoritarian and a captain to be feared, Jessica is friends with everybody in her crew and trusts them with her life. Her ship, The Rose, is practically a floating sorority; complete with weird traditions, gossip, gag rivalries, inside jokes, hazing, and the occasional prank. She even aids in getting them dates ( pro wingman right here ) and babysits some of their kids. Granted, they haven’t done much sailing or piracy in some time. But they all live comfortable lives on Crimson Isle, and they’ll be ready to sail should the need arise.

T - Jessica tends to trust people a tad too quickly and “give too much away” so to speak. It’s gotten her into trouble and even gotten her heart broken a time or two; but for some reason she never learns. She’d like to think she’s great at keeping secrets and to a degree, she is… but I wouldn’t trust her with any of mine- that I will say.

U - Oppenheimer, a pirate in the crew of the Flying Frigate ( in the movie the Pirate Fairy ) is her uncle.

V - Jess finds that she spends most of her days in her vineyard. She’s perfected the growing of grapes and timely shipments of wine, but now shes tinkering with how different aspects of growth effect flavor.

W - Jessica, whether she’s aware or not, is capable of being attracted to women. But she’s never really had any female partners. She’s not homophobic and wasn’t raised in an environment that was homophobic ( pirates pretty much love and sleep with whoever they want to ) it’s just ...never occurred to her to date women. Most of the reasons as to why are subconscious maternal issues but in short, Jess already has difficulty separating different kinds of love. Friendship and romantic love kinda... feel the same. She really only knows how to love one way and she can never tell if a woman is being friendly or flirty, much less if SHE’S being friendly or flirty. For this reason I’ve always labeled her as a questioning bisexual or a heteroflexible...

X - Her most recent botanical experiments revolve around xenogamy, also known as cross pollination. And just to flex, she’s also a huge xenophile for both Spanish and Chinese culture.

Y - Yellow is her second favorite color after red. Pink is her third and emerald green is her forth.

Z - In Jake and the Neverland Pirates, we see a type of rose called a Zebra Rose. While no such flower exists in actuality, I’d like to believe this is a result of some of Jess’s experiments - the medicinal purpose being to combat itching and irritation. 

Tagged By  -  nobody

Tagging  - @emcads @shiningsilverarmor @ofrcvenge @hunterhuntcd @youthflight @rcinbowconnection @jesterabandoned @inhxrmony @captainxhaddock @forvistxkonge @mcnsieur and you!!!

#did i just waste two hours bc i had a dumb idea #.....yes #x; WHY AREN'T YOU A CLEVER ONE? { meta } #x; EVER PLAYED CRAZY EIGHTS? { dash games }

[lashydsdomain]

1-45 FOR SUGAR PUSH OWO

- How do they fall asleep? Wake up? Any daily rituals?

Bella usually wants to sleep with Harlow but he’s anxious about it since he’s turned her into a pin cushion multiple times in his sleep. I think Bella tends to wake up first and usually goes to make breakfast for the hive.

- How’s their team work? Do they share well?

Bell…. Probably shares a lot better than Harlow since he um. He tends to want and need a lot of attention and doesn’t always come to Bell for it. It bothers her but she still hasn’t said anything yet.

As for teamwork I think they tend to be alright at it? Nothing special, just how they do.

- Are they open about their relationship? How do they feel about public displays of affection?

They’re a bit quiet about it since Harlow is a celebrity and Bella would prefer she not get a metric fuck ton of death threats. People know but not too many thankfully. Bell is a bit squirrely about PDA but she’s into it. She does prefer somewhere semi private though.

- First impression of each other? Was it love at first sight?

More like lust at first sight. They met in a park and Bella might have read his mind and died because he was thinking about railing her. It kill the Bell.

- Nicknames? Pet names? Any in-jokes?

They call each other puppy and kitten and it’s kinda cute. There are likely a few in jokes but I can’t think of any right now whoops.

- Any tasks that are always left to one person?

Hm. Not really actually. Bella does majority of the cooking but Harlow does sometimes as well. She always appreciates when he does.

- What annoys them the most about their partner? Would they change it if they could?

Harlow being a damn ho. It bothers Bell to no end but she’s also aware he’s a hyper sexual motherfucker and she’s unsure if she wants to take on the full brunt of it. She does want him to stop though, she just hasn’t gotten around to talking with him about it because she’s a weenie.

He can also be a bit neglectful when he starts to hyper focus but she doesn’t blame him for that; she knows he can’t exactly help it.

- What do the like best about their partner?

Bell loves how genuinely kind he can be and how safe he makes her feel. He’s finally getting around and learning how to help her with her PTSD and she’s so proud of him for it.

- Do they discuss big issues? Religion? Marriage? Children? Death?

Death is a somewhat common topic. They don’t really discuss children but they do have descendants eventually.

- Who drives? Cooks? Does the handiwork? Cleans? Pays the bills? Handles the public?

Harlow drives 90% of the time, Bell usually cooks, cleans, and does handiwork, they both pay their own bills since they live semi separately, and Harlow always handles the public. Bella has too much anxiety for that.

- Do they celebrate holidays? Anniversaries?

Harlow tends not to but he does occasionally for Bella and it shatters her poor heart to know he cares that much.

- Is there a wedding? What was the proposal like? Any kind of honeymoon?

If I remember right they do indeed get married as humans; it’s not something that’s been talked about too much but I have a feeling it might have been a kinda small one. That honeymoon lasted a good long while though.

- What do they do for fun? Do they have a favorite activity or do they like to switch things up?

They do the usual couple things like movies n cuddling n shit; Bella isn’t much for people but occasionally Harlow can convince her to go out to a club with him. Bella also likes listening to Harlow work on his music but I don’t know if that’s exactly fun for DJ man himself.

- Anything they both dread?

Breaking up I think; I know it’s a big anxiety for Bella even if she’s thought about it quite a bit from both ends.

- How adventurous are they?

Bella isn’t super adventurous but will go along with just about anything Harlow asks her to do but she does have a few lines she refuses to cross.

- Do they keep secrets? Lie? Cheat?

Bella keeps so many damn secrets. They were dating for two years before he found out why she has PTSD. She also lies occasionally if Harlow asks if she’s ok; it’s not so much because it’s him, it’s more so she feels if she says it she might feel better later.

Their relationship is semi open much to Bellas dislike so there isn’t much cheating going on. At least Harlow doesn’t talk about it with her.

- What would make them break up? Would it be permanent?

It’s been discussed that in order for them to have a functional relationship they might have to break up and get back together for Harlow to understand just how bad his actions effect Bell. I’m unsure if it’ll ever actually happen but it’s possible.

- What are their dates like? How long do/did they date? Do they ever feel the need to take a break from each other?

Typically they’re at home since Bella dislikes going out too much and Harlow can get bothered by fans in other places.I think it was about half a year until they started dating.Bella kind of feels like they need one right now if I’m honest. She’s very tired and her emotions are absolutely everywhere about him.

- What do they fight about? What are their arguments like? How do they make up?

Usually it’s something that was overlooked and caused a bad reaction. They’ve only really ever fought once though and it was because Harlow barely looked at Bell for around 2 or 3 months. They made up by talking it out and cuddling; it also affirmed with Bell that Harlow does really love her.

- What does their home look like? Their room?

They have separate homes and flip flop between them every now and then.

- Do they share any interests or hobbies?

They both really enjoy music. I think Harlow is interested in Bells magic even if it isn’t for a great reason but it’s there.

- Does their work ever interfere with the relationship?

They can both get absorbed into their work and kind of forget the outside world for a while. It’s rare but it does happen.

- How do they hug? Kiss? Tease? Flirt? Comfort?

Often and A Lot. Harlow is a very physically affectionate person and Bella is the sponge to soak it all up. Harlow Really Enjoys teasing Bella. Absolutely adores it.

- Any doubts about the relationship?

Not sure on Harlows end but Bell does occasionally worry about him just using her and not really loving her but that’s mostly in the past but it won’t ever really go away. It’s that Anxiety™ man.

- How much time do they spend together? Do they share their feelings, or hold things in?

Quite a bit usually. Both tend to keep things to themselves and hide feelings until they bubble over. It’s Bad.

- How do their friends feel about their relationship? Their families?

Most of their friends didn’t exactly approve of the relationship when it started since Labelle can bit a bit of a push over and Harlow is kind of a fuckboy. Bella’s mom still doesn’t 100% approve of it but Bell is happy.I’m pretty sure Beans is ecstatic they’re together and that’s adorable.

- Do they have kids? Grow old together? Split up?

They do eventually have kids, Lavora and Rydere, and are likely to stay together until Harlow dies. They have the possibility of breaking up but it’s not 100%

- What are their vacations like?

Probably somewhere abroad and fancy or somewhere deep in the woods just away from everything and everyone. Harlow likes the big crowds and lights but even he needs to recharge once in a while.

- How do the handle disasters or emergencies? Minor injuries? Sickness?

Panic. That’s about it. Both panic if the other is hurt. Bell can thankfully heal her own wounds usually and Harlows powers heal him fairly fast.Minor injuries still worry each other I think, Bell hates seeing Harlow hurt at all.Neither have been sick but I have a feeling it would end in one of those really mushy ‘tending to your sick lover in bed’ situations.

- Could they manage a long distance relationship?

Occasionally they have to for months at a time since Harlow goes on tour. They talk usually every day unless Harlow is too busy and Bella catches what she can on TV.

- Do they finish each other’s sentences? Pick up any phrases or habits from each other? Know when the other is hiding something?

I’d say no to all but Bell has a natural sense for if people are hiding something. She won’t pry too much but she does ask when she notices. Harlow is oblivious 90% of the time.

- Do they ever get into trouble? Is it serious, or are they just mischievous?

Usually mischievous but they have gotten into some pretty serious situations where one or both could have died.

- What kind of presents do they get each other? Do they only do it on special occasions?

Harlow tends to shower Bell in gifts from places he’s visited. Bell tries her best to find things he’s going to like but honestly she has no idea what to give him other than affection since if he wants something he can just. Buy it.

- Do they have any pets?

Harlow got Bell a support puppo that got named Beowoof. That’s about as close to owning pets together as they have since I don’t think their parents would enjoy being called pets.

- Do they bring out the best in each other, or the worst? Do they have a fatal flaw?

It’s a mixed bag I’d say. I’d say it’s more accurate to say they bring out each others true selves as cheesy as that is. A fatal flaw would probably be that they don’t communicate how they’re (cough bella cough) feeling enough

- What’s their greatest strength as a couple? Their weakness?

Greatest strength I think would be quite literal. Between Harlows regeneration and strength and Bella’s magic the pair would likely be a bit terrifying. A weakness as above though is likely lack of communication.

- How much would they be willing to sacrifice for the other? Any lines they refuse to cross?

Both would kill for the other. There are a lot of lines that shouldn’t be crossed on Bells end but it’s more personal boundaries. She dislikes death but has killed a lot of people herself and is just a little miffed when Harlow does so.

- What are they like in the bedroom? Any kinks/fetishes/turn-ons? Anything they won’t do?

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)For the most part they’re fairly rough and aggressive but the occasional soft loving sessions are adorable. There are a few things Bella won’t do but Harlow will do pretty much anything and everything.

- Who initiated the relationship? Who kissed who first?  When did they realize they were in love?

It was Harlow I believe on the first two, and probably Bella on the third. She falls a bit easily if someone is too nice.

- Any special memories? Do they have a special place they like to go to?

The first time they met I think will always be one for Bella, even if it’s for her to laugh about most of the time. I don’t think there’s a special place though.

- Are they party-goers? What are they like when they’re drunk? Does it happen often?

Bella hates parties but Harlow thrives in them so they go occasionally. Bella is an absolute mess when drunk and Harlow gets really lovey and affectionate. It’s not too common of an occurrence since Bella has had issues with alcohol before but it’s not rare. Maybe once a week or so for Bell at least.

- Do they let each other get away with things that would normally bother them?

Bella lets Harlow get away with far too much.

- Do they talk often? What about?

They likely talk at least once a day. Probably just about how their day is going and just to check in and make sure they don’t need anything.

- Are the comfortable with each other? Anything they have to have their privacy for?

They’re very comfortable around each other for the most part. Both need time apart occasionally when they get overwhelmed.

- Any special dreams or goals they have as a couple? Any heartbreaks? Regrets?

Bell regrets not being more open with him and has a hard time doing it now. She just really hopes they stay together for a long time. Unsure about Harlow tho.

#sugar push #labelle #Anonymous #ask

[imitranslates]

Fukigen na Mononokean Ch. 59

A chapter equal parts light-hearted and tense (especially that ending)! I wonder what Ashiya’s decision will lead to next month...

Please remember to check out the official English release when it comes out, preferably on Crunchyroll if you’re able to!

The newest chapter can be read on the official website by clicking the yellow button labeled 読む!

Fukigen na Mononokean Chapter 59 - Confession

Page 2

Ashiya: ......

[It seems like I used "influence" again...]

[Even though I remembered the last time I used it, that time...

By the time I woke up, I was inside the Mononokean.]

[It's just... When I heard Abeno's story, there was one thing I remembered.]

[Just before my memories cut off... I could see it in my hazy consciousness...

A boy wearing a gakuran who looked like Abeno-san.]

Page 3

[His face, young looking with golden hair and golden eyes, lingered in my mind.]

[Without a doubt... that was...]

[Sakae.]

Ashiya: ......

[Inside me, Sakae is dormant.

And on that day... that part came to the surface.]

Page 4

Ashiya: And erased... Sasa-san with his influence...

[The demons that were erased in my dreams...]

[If those, too, are Sakae's memories...]

[Then they must have been killed.]

Page 5

Ashiya: It's just as the Executive feared.

I'm a "dangerous human," after all.

Ashiya: (Sigh...) ...How did things get like this?

Ashiya: It isn't something that can be apologized for and forgiven.

The Executive and the Justice can't ignore the danger I've become....

Ashiya: If I end up getting thrown into White Sand Prison, how will I explain things to my mom...? (I'm studying in a foreign country...? On a journey to find myself...?)

Page 6

Abeno: They don't know about Sasa-dono's case.

Ashiya: ...!

Abeno: ...Well.

Abeno: ...I didn't report it to the Legislator in the first place, so

They'd have no way of knowing.

Ashiya: Eh...? (He hasn't reported it yet...!?)

[It was a special incident where a demon was the victim.

He should have reported it to the Legislator immediately...]

Page 7

Abeno: ...But if,

Abeno: The Executive were to hear about it, I can't imagine what sort of things he has planned.

Abeno: Be prepared.

Ashiya: ......

Abeno: ...That said, is your right hand alright?

[Executive: You've opposed me, I see... Itsuki...]

[Executive: Are you protecting a human again?]

[Executive: That's something the m6aster of the Mononokean must not do.]

Ashiya: ...Abeno-san.

Ashiya: Have you thought about yourself?

Page 8

Ashiya: Since you're keeping quiet about it, if you're exposed

They'll lose faith in the Mononokean despite all the things you've done until now, you know!

Ashiya: (I can't make him cover for me...!)

Ashiya: Let's report to the Legislator!

Page 9

Ashiya: He disagreed with the Executive back then, so let's ask him to be on our side.

Ashiya: I think he'll understand and make a judgment that isn't prejudiced against humans.

Ashiya: After we tell him everything, I'll leave the decision to him, and

Ashiya: I'll abide by it.

Abeno: .....

Nara: Good mooorning~!

Nara: Breakfast is finished, so come on down~

Ashiya: Okay, we're coming now.

Page 10

Nara: It's not much, but I did my best!

Ashiya: ...

Abeno: ...

Abeno&Ashiya: (Not much?!)

Nara: Abeno-kun, what would you like to drink?

Coffee? Tea? Or would you prefer milk? (We also have orange juice.)

Abeno: Okay...

Ashiya: Green tea! He'll take green tea!  

(Abeno: I ended up troubling you for a long time...)

Nara: It would have been fine to relax a little more... (It's evening, so I can call for a car...)

Abeno: (No...) You've already done more than enough...

Page 11

Ashiya: (Mom... She seems to like Abeno-san a lot. [She's really enjoying herself..])

(Nara: Come to visit again sometime!)

(Ashiya: See ya!)

Ashiya: ...?

Nara: ......

Ashiya: ......

Ashiya: (Mom.) If you keep waving like that, it'll be harder for Abeno-san to get back.

(Abeno: They're still looking this way...)

Nara: I guess that's true! It's just...

Page 12

Nara: Abeno-kun reminds me of him when he was young...

Nara: I got excited because it felt like Sakae-kun had come home.

Nara: Now then! We've got to water our seedlings!

Ashiya: .......

Page 13

[Come home, huh...]

[Even now, she's waiting for him to come back.]

(Without knowing anything about his disappearance... ever since then...)

Ashiya: ...I, too...

Can't keep hiding things like this...

Page 14

Ashiya: !?

Ashiya: !?

Abeno: .......

Ashiya: Did you forget something?

Abeno: The Legislator called for me.

Page 15

Ashiya: ......

Ashiya: ......

Abeno: .......

Abeno: .......

Ashiya: ...Did he find out?

Abeno: ...Maybe.

Legislator: So, Ashiya-kun did that to a demon with his "influence"...

Page 16

Legislator: ...You know, if you tell that story

Legislator: There will be some unexpected consequences.

(Legislator: I'm surprised~)

Abeno: You mean, you didn't call for me to talk about that?

Legislator: No? This is a completely different matter? (I figured something was going on when you brought out tea.)

Abeno&Ashiya: (We weren't found out at all!!)

Legislator: ...But,

I wish you would have reported earlier.

Legislator: Hiding things isn't good, okay, Itsuki?

Page 17

Legislator: But... If he found out the reason why you hesitated to make your report, the Executive would be angry.

Legislator: Being cautious of my attitude as well is to be expected as well, so I can't just blame you.

Legislator: (So,) Regarding your omissions, I'll let you off with a reprimand. (It's bad, you know?)

(Abeno: Yes...)

(Ashiya: I'm sorry!!)

Legislator: More than that, the real problem is regarding Ashiya...

Abeno: !

(Ashiya: That's totally right...)

Abeno: About this... Will the Executive and the Justice...

Legislator: Rather than hiding anything, I think telling them resolutely will earn you a good impression.

Ashiya: (Resolutely...)

Page 18

Legislator: That said! I have the perfect opportunity for you to give them your report.

Ashiya: Opportunity?

Legislator: The three officials are going to meet up!

(Ashiya: The three officials..?)

Legislator: In order to show my sincerity, I want you guys to come along, too!

Page 19

Legislator: That was my original reason for calling you today.

Legislator: We'll be heading over to the Songbird Cage.

That's the rule.

Ashiya: Nn?!

Ashiya: (The Executive's territory?!)

Legislator: That's how it is, so free up your schedule, you two.

On that day, we'll meet up at...

Page 20

Ashiya: !

Justice: Mm...

Page 21

Justice: The conditions for lifting your ban on entering Underworld are fulfilled.

Justice: It's fine to come in.

[Conditions...

I'm only allowed to visit as long as the Justice is accompanying me.)

Ashiya: ...Okay.

[Since I was banned]

Ashiya: ......

[This is the first time I've come to the Underworld!]

Page 22

Ashiya: Sorry for the intrusion!!

(Justice: Welcome...)

Abeno: (By the way) Should I have the Mononokean bring us to the outskirts of the Executive's territory?

Legislator: By all means, please do.

From there, the journey will be by--

(Ashiya: AAAAAAH!)

Page 23

(Ashiya: AAAAAAAH!)

(Legislator: Wheee!)

Abeno: It's been awhile since I've ridden, but he's as fast as ever...

(Ashiya: AAAAAAAH!)

(Ashiya: AAAAAAH!)

Justice: We've arrived.

(Ashiya: We're here...?)

Page 24

Ashiya: !

Ashiya: ...Huh?

Ashiya: This isn't the Songbird Cage...

Legislator: We're taking a detour to buy a gift for the host.

Legislator: I heard that this area sells the Executive's favorite food.

Ashiya: Favorite food?

Justice: The Executive doesn't have that much of an interest in food, but I've seen his employee go to buy that time and time again.

Page 25

Abeno: By that do you mean that?

Gyoma kesera?

Ashiya: (Gyoma..?) What's that?

(Justice: It's a gyoma.)

Abeno: It's like the Underworld's mame daifuku.

[The Executive's favorite food: Mame daifuku (A filled mochi with soy or azuki beans mixed into the dough)]

Legislator: (Pfft) That's right. The Executive's favorite food is that confection.

Abeno: Why are you laughing?

Justice: But I don't know what the name of the particular shop is.

Justice: Do you know, Itsuki?

Abeno: I don't.

Ashiya: Then, let's ask around while we look for it.

Justice: Mm...

Ashiya: Justice, sir... Could I be let down?

Justice: No can do.

(Legislator: Where can I get some gyoma kesera?)

(Demon: No idea?)

(Abeno: Excuse me, I'd like to ask your assistance...)

(Demon: I wonder if it's that store over there?)

Abeno: Excuse me, if I may...

Page 26

Clerk: We don't make any gyoma, do we? (Hey, manager.)

Manager: If it's Kesera Dango, we have some, but... We're don't have any Gyoma Kesera.

Manager: If you're looking for a shop that might make some... I think "Kokeko-ya" should?

Abeno: Thank you for the information. (Kokeko-ya...)

Abeno: Then, I'll be going...

Clerk: Ah!

Um!!

(Abeno: Yes?)

Clerk: W-would I be able to ask you something...!?

Page 27

Clerk: Is the gentleman who came to our store and is filling his cheeks with our dango....!

Clerk: Sir Legislator, one of the three officials!?

Legislator: Exactly right, miss! (These dango are delicious.)

(Clerk: I knew it!)

(Manager: Nanu!?)

Abeno: (Damn it... The authorities of the Underworld aren't anything to joke about... I was hoping to sneak away without drawing any attention...)

Legislator: The Justice is outside the shop, too!

Manager: Huh?!

Ashiya: Is it okay to get down?

Justice: No.

Abeno: (Don't tell them!!)

Page 28

Ashiya: !?

Ashiya: !!

Ashiya: The whole town's in a panic!!

Demon: Sir Justice!

Demon: Sir Legislatooor!

Demon: Sir Justiceee!

Demon: It's just like the Justice to be able to tame such a large beast...!

Demon: He's riding it so easily, too! He's truly one of the three officials!

Demon: So that black-haired one is the Justice.

Ashiya: (And the whole town's having a huge misunderstanding!!)

Justice: (I'll pretend not to know.)

Abeno: (Mouthing) I bought the Gyoma Kesera.

Ashiya: (And again he managed to calmly accomplish our mission, that master of ours...)

(Ashiya: So that's where he was!)

Ashiya: (An escape!!)

Page 29

(Ashiya: AAAAAH!)

Demon: I've been waiting for you.

Sir Legislator... Sir Justice...

Demon: Gentleman from the Mononokean.

Page 30

Demon: If you'll come inside...

Ashiya: (We've finally reached the Songbird Cage...)

Ashiya: ......

Ashiya: (Resolutely...)

("Sincerity...")

(Ashiya: Haa...)

(Abeno: Excuse me...)

Page 31

Ashiya: Pardon the intrusion.

Page 32

Demon: Sir Executive.

Demon: All your guests have arrived.

Executive: Come in...

Page 34

Legislator: Yo...

Justice: Mm...

Executive: Greetings...

Page 35

Executive: You're prompt, but

Executive: You all... what were you doing in town?

I received a report at one o'clock that there was a disturbance.

Legislator: (Oh dear) As always, you hear news fast.

We were stealthily going out to buy a gift, but we were exposed...

Justice: Is that what you call stealthily?

Legislator: But somehow, we managed to get our hands on some!

Your favorite food, gyoma kesera! (Pfff.)

Executive: .......

...Justice?

Justice: I simply answered what the Legislator asked me.

Page 36

Abeno: It has been a while.

Ashiya: Hello!

Executive: Itsuki aside...

Executive: Why are you having him accompany you?

Page 37

(Justice: It's good...)

(Legislator: Delicious.)

(Abeno: Don't eat that, okay?)

(Ashiya: I know. My stomach would start burning again...)

Executive: Now then...

Just what is this so-called report from the Mononokean...?

Page 38

Ashiya: Abeno-san.

Ashiya: As the person involved, do you mind if I talk to them?

Abeno: !

Abeno: You don't remember what happened that time.

Legislator: I don't mind.

Abeno: !

Abeno: ......

Page 39

Abeno: ......

[...Surely,]

[If I let Abeno-san explain,]

[Even if it wasn't his intention,

The Executive would think that Abeno-san was trying to cover for me.]

Page 40

[If the report displeased him,]

[The brunt of his anger would pass through me and end up reaching Abeno-san.]

[Besides...

The matter of my father...]

[I don't want him to shoulder that.]

[If someone has to take responsibility for the crimes Sakae committed,

I should be the only one to do it.]

Page 41

[That's why...]

Ashiya: As an employee of the Mononokean,

I've traveled to the Underworld because of something I must report.

Ashiya: Some days ago...

There was a demon by the name of Sasa...

Ashiya: That I killed with my influence.

Page 42

Executive: .......

.............

Ashiya: .......

Page 43

Executive: ............

#fukigen na mononokean #fukigen na mononokean 59 #fukigen na mononokean chapter 59 #fukigen na mononokean translation #The Morose Mononokean #manga translation

[midnightsnapdragon]

side-effects of poetry

He wonders if there'll be any poems left in the galaxy, if she has them all to herself.

Keep scrolling, or read on FFN or AO3.

The student café smells like tea and old afghans, thick with dust because no one wants to open a window and let in the freezing February air. Jacin adjusts the strap of the book bag on his shoulder, looking for someplace dignified to sit. The space designated for the poetry slam is populated only by beanbags.

His jaw ticks.

"All right, everyone, we're going to start in a minute," chirps a girl in overalls and highly impractical heels. Her braids swing behind her as she ushers the milling students to the floor.

Jacin gives up and plops down on a red beanbag that's lost most of its beans, leaving it basically a sack with too little stuffing to keep his butt off the floor. The book bag leans against his thigh, paper whispering to him above the murmur of the four o'clock crowd.

Let me out, let me out, let them hear me.

He pats a hand against the fabric to silence it. He hadn't known before that poems so longed to breathe – that they begged to be spread like wishes, like dandelion seeds on the wind.

Across from him, a willowy young woman sits cross-legged on a purple beanbag as comfortably as a bird in her nest. Curly black hair frames the face of an enchantress. Jacin catches a glimpse of luminous amber eyes as she flips through a battered notebook, her lips bunched together.

"Who'd like to share first?" says the girl with blue braids once everyone has settled down, clasping her hands under her chin. "We'll go around the circle, shall we?"

He listens with detachment as his fellow students read their poems from paper or from memory. Some are pretentious and elaborate, others as literal as bricks. It's the simple ones that pack the most punch, he notices.

Not that he would know. He's not a poet – he's in pre-med, actually, and wrestled with himself for a fair bit before coming here. Something must have possessed him, a couple of days ago – some sort of poetry virus that every teenage boy is bound to catch at least once in his life before becoming immune forever, like the chicken pox – to try to capture in words how he felt about being entrusted with life and death, as a doctor.

He'd put pen to paper, as awkward as someone on his first date, and now here he is. Like an idiot.

Maybe someone had sneezed on him.

Quite simply, a poem should fill you up with something, he once read on a poster in the metro car. Could make you swoon, stop in your tracks, change your mind or make it up. A poem should happen to you like cold water or a kiss.

He's not a poet, but maybe he is a narcissist, because he wants someone other than him to know that this fledgling poem exists, written by his pen, written from him like tendrils of his own thought spun into calligraphy. It would make the thing real.

Maybe he's waiting for a poem to happen to him.

Maybe he hopes that his will happen to somebody else.

The circle comes around to the black girl with amber eyes. She glances up at Jacin, offhand, as she flips to a new page, and he straightens unconsciously against the wooden wall of the café.

"She carries her heartbreak in a metal case," she reads, her voice melodious and clear, "and feeds it gasoline and memories. Her hands shake as she tries to stitch it whole …"

And Jacin forgets all about his irritation with poetry.

It's a story – the story of a girl with a broken, feral heart, a girl on her knees trying to patch together something irreparable, a girl with a bitter tongue and a basketful of gunpowder and flowers. What do you know about heartbreak? She can't carry it anymore, can't feed it anymore –

The poem washes over him and settles into his skin like cold sea spray, the tingling of a spell. He holds his breath until the very end, and when it comes, he's too disoriented to clap along with everyone else. It feels like being abruptly shaken awake from a nap.

He can't remember ever being … moved like this. And by what? A certain arrangement of words, a story told just so. Her words have already evaporated into the stifling, musty air of the café.

The applause dies out, the circle moves along. Jacin's little seedling poem is ready to spring awake from the depths of his book bag. If he listens closely, he thinks he can hear it rustling its wings.

And all at once, he is ashamed of it. Next to the story about repairing heartbreak, which encapsulates everything a poem should be, his is ungainly and awkward, pitiful really. Not fit to be read aloud.

When his turn comes around, and everyone turns to him expectantly, he shakes his head.

"Just here to listen."

Then he looks at the person next to him, passing the hot potato.

He's not the first to pass. No one suspects that he still has a poem stuffed down in his anatomy textbook. No one ever needs to know.

Jacin stares at the enchantress-girl out of the corner of his eye for the rest of the half-hour, and leaves the minute everyone gets up for lemonade and store-bought cookies.

He stands atop a small hillock, holding a scrap of paper in his fist. Fields of overgrown grass unfurl around him in every direction – the horizon an infinite, unbroken circle hemming him in. A few white clouds are strewn across the midday sky. Wind whistles quietly over the hills.

He looks at the poem in his hand. It flutters hopefully at him, seeking approval. He frowns.

"Not you," he says.

Above him, a cloud drifts nonchalantly closer to the sun.

Scraggly branches wave and scrape against his window. It is eleven oh two at night. Jacin pores over his books, a pen tap-tap-tapping against the page.

The labeled illustration of a human heart stares back at him.

Out of nowhere, he thinks, this diagram is scientifically inaccurate. All the blood vessels are there, the thick tubes of arteries, the colour schematics perfect – but where is the sorrow, the patriotism, the infatuation, where are all the follies and stupid things the heart is capable of? Where are the clear-cut lines pointing yes, here is where love and hatred intersect in passion, or here, you see, is the node that seeds pure joy just once in a person's lifetime?

Where in this textbook does it explain why his heartbeat stutters whenever he looks at the girl with amber eyes, the girl who makes the English language into a magic spell, an overgrown rosebush, an endless blue sky, a new miracle?

His right hand, still balancing the pen between two fingers, drifts toward the desk drawer where he keeps scrap paper. Tentatively, he begins treading a new line of thought: they say there's a new heart surgery that can erase your name, carried by the pulse under my jaw –

Mm, too pretentious.

I have a new patient. And I can't figure out what's wrong with the thing beating inside of him –

No, that's. That's not really a poem.

His hand comes back to rest on his textbook.

At the next poetry circle, the enchantress-girl reads half a dozen verses about a monster in the woods. Jacin watches her face light up as she goes through the lines – the same fond, melancholic look people get when they sing a song they've known by heart since childhood – and wonders if poetry is a gift given to you or if it's something you can study, like cardiac arrest. If poets are born, or made.

(He wonders if there'll be any poems left in the galaxy, if she has them all to herself.)

The circle comes around to him and he refuses again, his face impassive. A few scribbled lines try to scratch their way out of his book bag (beside them, the first poem lies dormant and stale) but he pats them back down. It helps to think of himself as the cliché'd Emotional Bad Poet; the mortification stifles any stray words that try to wriggle their way through his pen.

When this round ends, he lingers by the snacks table, feigning indecision – conveniently within earshot of the poet/stargirl/witch/history student as she chatters in a bright voice to her friend with the mop of fiery red curls.

Winter, the other girl calls her. No, Winter, I'm not calling in any favours with the animal shelter … you know the landlord wouldn't let you keep him, anyway.

Jacin's fingers hover over a butterscotch scone he's not remotely interested in. He mouths the word to himself, tasting it. Winter. Cold and crystalline. The muffled silence of snowfall, the tinkle of icicles, the gentle chime of sleigh bells, freezing slush that soaks through your socks. Why winter, of all things? He has never known anyone who radiates so much warmth.

A chill wind hits his cheeks when he leaves the café, and he wraps his scarf around his neck to keep it out. He has a test tomorrow, and an essay due a week after that. He can't afford to get sick.

He can't afford to get distracted, either, yet Winter's poems lace themselves into his mental archive of medical knowledge, dancing in and out of his mind as he walks home, consumes cup after cup of coffee, flips a textbook page as the clock strikes witching hour

as the left pulmonary artery is an extension (she is just a child, with a child's eyes) of the pulmonary trunk, while the right (you could only ever be half a person, half a pair of bones) pulmonary dips under the aortic arch and under (I cried the way women on TV do, folding at the middle like a five pound note –)

His hands keep itching for a pen.

Whenever he does try to write something, though … all he sees is a blank page. Her poems have strung a cat's-cradle of fairy lights through his head and he cannot think through them, can't seem to find his own words when hers are all that he hears, giggling in the shadows, a crisscross of pixies and glowing fireflies.

Atop the hill in the middle of that vast prairie, Jacin examines another poem with a critical eye, and lets it slip through his fingers. Its small cry of abandonment is lost in the breeze picking up to ripple through the grasses. Strands of pale hair blow into his eyes.

Another, another. He searches his pockets for the spares.

Winter, he thinks, a pencil hovering over a blank page. A dozen scribbled-over beginnings litter the paper.

Winter.

The whimsy of wind chimes, a bright yellow songbird, the clear breath of snowmelt in your lungs on the first day of spring.

Not a girl of ice and snow but a girl of sunshine and stardust.

Stardust. The word tickles at him. He has four lines down on the paper before the last line of her poem about sky-people splits his concentration, a silver dagger slicing through the air:

Now there's stardust in her hair, and ashes and obsidian in her wake.

If a poem is something that happens to you, this was a goddamn bolt of lightning. He staggered out of the student café dazed, bewildered, a little disoriented. He ended up missing his bus stop because he kept mouthing snatches of the poem to himself.

Fingers pinched around the pen, Jacin inhales deeply. And it occurs to him: Why bother?

He sets the pen aside and calmly, methodically, crumples the page in one fist and flings it out the open window.

Why bother, indeed? That girl, Winter, she has stories in her blood and ink stains under her fingernails; she is a poem, all graceful lines and mischievous eyes, a crimson-bright cardinal among dreary brown flightless birds, the only one awake in a city full of sleepwalkers. And what is he? A cynic, a pretender. A pre-med student who should stick to his science instead of reaching for gifts that don't belong to him.

Disgusted with himself and his painfully inadequate words, Jacin pushes back from his desk and leaves the stifling room, pausing only to grab his jacket on the way.

The vast gray sky casts the grassy fields in shade. He digs the poems out of his pocket and holds them to the waning light in his cupped hands.

He sees nothing worth keeping. He opens his fingers and lets the wind carry them away and out of sight, crumbling to ash.

It's not regret that sends a pang through him. It's not. He doesn't care about those attempts at poetry. It's better that they should disappear.

He stuffs his hands back into his pockets.

Three stories below, a girl walks down the street with her chin tucked into her brilliant crimson scarf to ward off the chill. A crumbled ball of paper drops gently from the sky, landing at her feet.

Winter stares at it for a moment. She thinks, absurdly, of falling pinecones. Then she crouches to pick it up, and smooths it out. Chunks of road salt dig into her heels through her soft boots.

It's a poem on cheap lined paper, likely a standard-issue 200-page notebook. University kids can't afford much better. A smile is already spreading across her face when her gaze snags on her name.

Winter.

Not a girl of ice and snow but a girl of sunshine and stardust.

The words send a peculiar, electric glittering over her skin. Her lips part. She glances up at the nearest apartment building, at the open window three stories above. There's a quick flash of pale hair, an arm extended to shut the window.

Before she can think to wave, the young man who never brings any poems vanishes from sight.

A chilly, foreboding wind whips through the fields. The grass is starting to wither. Vultures circle overhead. He crumples poem after poem in his fists and throws them to the ground, grinding them into dust with his heel.

"Worthless," he says harshly. He hates the pitiful things he holds, even as it drives a tiny shard of ice into his heart to feed his own hatred. "Meaningless."

They cry out for him to stop, to take them back, for nourishment. He ignores them. Better to put them down than try to heal them or make them grow.

His voice is thick with contempt. "Embarrassing– trite – pretentious –"

Another poem shrivels in his fingers, another crumbles like an autumn leaf in the winter. He tosses them left and right, scattering pieces of himself to the wind. It takes something out of him to hate these things he has created, but if they're supposed to reflect what's inside of him, he must be worthless too.

"Try the raspberry jam ones," says a merry voice behind him. "They're divine."

Jacin snatches his hand away from the plastic box of macarons. Winter has materialized next to him, a little too close than is polite to stand next to a stranger, and like a bird pecking at cornseed she snatches two at once.

"I don't believe we've met," she says through a mouthful of macaron, extending a hand to him.

Despite himself, the corners of his lips quirk into a smile as he takes her hand and shakes it, twice. She's like a child, completely shameless about taking more than her fair share of sweets. "Jacin Clay."

She covers her mouth with the back of the other hand so crumbs don't spew out. "I'm Winter."

"I know."

Her brows lift. "My name has gone around, then?"

"Yes. Your poems –" He hesitates. It costs him something to say it, knowing that he cannot speak to her as an equal. Not in this. "They're … very good."

She's already stuffing the second macaron into her mouth like a sticky bun. "Thank you." Bemused, he waits for her to chew, and after a moment she swallows and tips her head at him. "I wanted to ask – why don't you ever read out your poems?"

Jacin's smile vanishes. "I don't write."

"I don't think that's true." She draws a crumpled bit of paper from her coat pocket and holds it out to him. "I think this is yours."

Heat creeps into Jacin's cheeks as he stares at the paper, as though his face is a stovetop and someone is slowly, excrutiatingly, turning the dial.

"Where did you find that?"

"Your poem found me," she says matter-of-factly, as if he should know what his poems get up to when he isn't looking. As if he should be held accountable. "I think you could share it. I mean, not if you don't want to, obviously. But I liked it." Her lips flicker into an uncertain little smile. "Then again, I can't be objective, seeing as it's about – um."

He tears his eyes away from the crumpled paper, torn between mortification and the desire to scoff with every ounce of spite he possesses. She likes this ugly, unpolished thing? She, silver-tongued Winter who can move his cold, practical heart with a simple turn of phrase – she wants him to share?

She knows that she was the subject. She must. A girl of sunshine and stardust … How many girls called Winter can there be in this town?

Jacin picks the crumpled paper from her fingers, careful not to brush her skin. "How do you know this is mine?" It's tempting to deny it altogether, but he is too proud to do that.

"I'm fairly sure it fell out of your window."

"Ah."

There's an awkward pause. Students are filing out of the café, bundled into scarves and mittens against the icy winter wind. Winter takes a breath and asks, "Could I read another?"

"Another?"

"One of your poems."

"There aren't any more," he says stiffly. "This was just a fluke –"

She sounds genuinely insulted. "Poetry is never a fluke!"

He makes a derisive noise. "Easy for you to say."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"How can any of us write when you're here to blow us out of the water?" He'd meant it to sound flippant, a joking self-disparagement , but instead he just sounds bitter. "I mean, really, what's the point? You're better than anything I could ever be. 'There can only be one', and all that."

Winter's lips part in outrage. "Don't tell me you stop yourself from writing because of me –"

"Of course I do," he snaps. "Every time I reach for a pen and paper I have your voice in my head, and your poems, and how can I even try when you …" He gestures vaguely at her, more frustrated than ever that he can't put into words what he feels. When you can capture a feeling with a few lines the way an artist captures a face with strokes of charcoal.

She watches him, dismayed, as his ruthless posture sags a little.

"Never mind. Sorry for blabbing like that. It's not your problem." Jacin hefts his book bag more comfortably over his shoulder and turns to walk through the café door. "See you next time."

He knows before the words are out of his mouth that he's lying.

He fishes his very first poem out of his pocket – the one about life and death held in a doctor's hands, the power to heal and the power to kill in equal measure – when a horrified voice breaks through the whistling wind.

"What are you doing?"

It's the enchantress-girl, the wood-nymph, the witch. She stands at the base of the hill, her unbound hair whipping every which way in the gale, her eyes widening as she sees the poem crushed in his fist, the remains of its brethren at his feet.

"No!" she shrieks, and something tears in her voice as though it's her verse-children he's ripping to pieces. "Stop – YOU'RE KILLING THEM!"

Jacin frowns in surprise as she runs up the hill toward him, holding her peasant skirts so they won't tangle around her knees. When she grabs his hand and uncurls his fingers, he doesn't stop her. When she gently pries away the suffocating poem – a crumpled knot of spiky letters too jumbled to make sense, let alone beauty – he doesn't stop her then, either.

He just watches, uncomprehending, as the witch kneels in the soil and holds the poem to her lips. Shhhhhh, she breathes. It's all right now. Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.

The wind quiets. The vultures settle down somewhere in the field. Calm descends on the vast, infinite grassland as the poem unfurls in her hands, carefully, painstakingly untangling itself like a crushed spider. But even in her gentle hands, it cowers, and the witch looks up at Jacin with grieved eyes.

"Why have you done this?" she asks, her eyes welling with pain. "How could you do this?"

Jacin blinks. He does not understand why she should care so much about his shabby poems. Surely, it's not her place to show them mercy.

"I don't want them," he says lamely.

The witch furrows her brow in genuine confusion.

"… but they're yours."

He hasn't taken two steps before Winter grabs his hand.

"Wait, Jacin –"

His lips part on a sharp breath; his eyes dart to where she twines her fingers with his, then back up to her face.

"I understand," she says earnestly. "Please believe me when I say I get it. Nobody is immune to this once they start writing. It's a side-effect you just have to live with."

He stares down at her and finds that his mind has scattered. Probably a side-effect of holding her hand. Truly, he is a sap. No wonder he turned to poetry. What kind of doctor lets hormones get in the way of critical thinking?

Winter searches his eyes for a long moment before her eyes drift to the paper still clutched in his other hand.

"I'm biased, of course," she says quietly, "but it – it's rather beautiful. More like a story than a poem, I think."

Jacin looks down at his boots. "I don't have your gift."

"You don't have to have my gift. Maybe you have something of your own, have you ever thought of that?" She gestures at his book bag. "You're in pre-med, you would know – no two human beings are the same. No two writers are the same. We all have our own fingerprints."

"Any idiot could tell you that," he points out caustically.

Winter gives him a reproving look. "Please don’t be difficult. I don’t even know if I’m saying this right, but – "

– she pauses, searching for the right words  –

" – if I've learned anything about poetry ... it doesn't have to be good. It just has to be yours."

The witch blows gently on the poem, revitalizing it, breathing new life, and plants it on the hilltop. She picks up the remains of his poems one by one until she has all the pieces, and puts them into his hands.

He cradles them, uncertain of how to be gentle with such delicate things. The poems he did not treasure. The poems he tried to throw away.

"Let them live," she whispers, folding his fingers around them. "Let them grow."

"I guess so," says Jacin quietly.

It's all the concession he's ready to make. Anything more concrete would jinx the tentative new thing planted in him, might erase the twitching of his fingers all over again.

Winter nods and releases his hand, as solemn as if they've reached the end of a ceremony. "I hope you'll let us hear what you write, sometime." She gestures outside. "Shall we?"

A smile flickers across his face. "We shall."

Once the café door clangs shut behind them with a cheery tinkle, she pauses to pull on her gloves, and Jacin gathers his courage.

"You know," he says, "I might let you read one of mine if you let me read one of yours. One of your rough drafts, I mean. It would only be fair."

Winter darts a glance at him through her lashes, an elfin look of mischief. Snowflakes have begun to settle into her curls. "Can't. They're all just variations on" – she pretends to fiddle with the hem of her gloves – " 'blond hair and beautiful eyes and the rising sun in his smile.' You'd cringe."

"I don't think you're capable of writing anything cringe-worthy." Maybe she'll write off his reddening ears as a side effect of the cold. "No less than 'sunshine and stardust', probably."

"You called me a canary."

"I did not call you –"

"And that would make you, what? What bird has a poker face and is in league with the mafia?"

"A horned owl?" he offers.

"I was going to say 'I'd Sell You To Satan For One Corn Chip', but that's a bit of a mouthful." Jacin gives her a perplexed look. "Remind me to tell you about troubled birds."

"Troubled birds," he echoes, bemused. She's kind of wacky. But what else can you expect from a poet?

Winter smiles at him, as bright as melting snow. "I guess you'll just have to come to the next poet's circle. With or without something to contribute." She turns and starts to walk away down the street. "Bye, Jacin!"

He casts about briefly for something clever to say, but all he can think of is the icy roads and so he settles on, "Walk safely."

She answers with a little skip in her step, sending road salt skittering in every direction.

Long after the witch vanishes from the hillside, he kneels in front of the poem-sapling, and cups it gently in his hands to shield it from the steady wind.

He's not sure when it will blossom, or what colour the flowers will be. Maybe it will rise as a colossal beanstalk to breach the clouds above. Or maybe it'll never be any taller than his knee.

He is certain of only one thing: it will grow, if he allows it to.

Author's Note:

I wrote this fic to cheer myself up after a bout of writer's doubt and self-pity. Here, Winter tells Jacin the things I wish someone else had told me - but maybe teaching myself these small lessons was the best possible thing. If that nagging little voice whispers "Why bother?" in your ear about your writing, or your art, or your music, I hope that you will think of this thinly veiled piece of writer's advice and take heart.

She carries her heartbreak in a metal case and Ashes and obsidian in her wake both come from poems by Snigdha Chaya Saikia (a.k.a Canvas Constellations). The first is called "Repairs" and can be found on her tumblr @canvasconstellations; the second, "Stars," and can be found on the website of Strange Horizons under their poetry tag. Snigdha, I dedicate this fic to you. Your writing blows me away every time.

#tlc fanfic #the lunar chronicles #jacinter #otp: swoony psychodrama

[surveystodestressme]

260.

What kind of dog do you find most ugly? chinese crested

Do you like wood floors or carpet better? Wood.

Do you think the USA bullies other countries? idk man

Are you currently in love right now? yeah

Favorite fast food joint? Steak n shake or taco bell

What would you do if your ex contacted you? i mean i wouldn’t really care tbh

Do you still have feelings for your ex? no

Ever tasted a flavored condom? yeah they don’t taste very good

Do you know CPR? yes

How much do you care about your best friend? I would give her the world if i could

Do you watch Dr. Phil? i do

What age would you like to have a child? never

Are your parents wealthy? no

Pick one state you’d love to live in? Alaska.

How many pets do you want? And of what? i have a cat named boots and a beagle named fiona they are both very good beans

Have you ever asked someone out? Yes.

When do you want to get married? never

Can you play a musical instrument? i cannot

Does money make you happy? it does, very much so

Your favorite breakfast food? i love breakfast skillets

When was the last time you went to a funeral? i don’t even know, man, it’s been a while tbh

Have you ever stolen someone’s boyfriend/girlfriend? no

Tell me the date of your first kiss.i don’t know man, i just know it was when i was 14

Are your legs long or short? short

How many phobias do you have? probably too many

Is there a bookshelf in your room? a ghetto ass metal shelf that i’m using as a bookshelf until i actually buy one

Do you use the Facebook chat often? i don’t have facebook

Who got you hooked on the addiction you're addicted to (If you have one)? i don’t think i really have an addiction tbh

Are you currently worried about your parents finding out about something? nope

Have you ever lived with a friend? no

Have you ever only liked someone because you found out they liked you? No.

Ever been on a real diet, or did you just stop eating? I stopped eating for a while there it’s called an ED

Have you ever known a white supremacist? no

Do you like the smell of a barbecue? not really tbh

Have you ever gone out in public in your pajamas? yes

How many times have you been to the ER? twice that i remember

How many people are you currently texting? Nobody atm

Anything exciting coming up? not at all

Would you rather get money or gift cards for your birthday? money lol

Do you have Instagram? I do

Have you ever spoken to a detective before? yes actually.  my friends stepdad is a detective but we’ve never talked about his job

Do you believe in ghosts? ehhh

Do ladders scare you? nope

Hot dogs or hamburgers? burgers

Do you have any tattoos on your arms? I do.

Have you ever owned or known someone who owned a black cat? my parents have a black cat and her name is kitten. she is 25#

What album is the last song you listened to from? no idea

What’s the last funny movie you watched? i don’t remember

Can you remember your parents’ birthdays? i know both of my parents birthdays

If you had to get a tattoo tomorrow, what would you pick? anything honestly, i have so many ideas

How do you feel about band tattoos? i think it’s cool

What piercing do you like most on the opposite sex? nose

Are you any good at applying make up? absolutely not lol i don’t even try

How old were the last 3 people you kissed? my bf is 25, i don’t remember who i kissed besides him bc we’ve been together for 6 years so no one else intimately since  him

If you found out you got someone pregnant, what would you do? be extremely confused because i cannot get other people pregnant unless someone stole my eggs

Do you ever wonder what your ex is up to? never

Do you like your cell phone? yeah it’s good

Is rap your favorite genre of music? No

Have you ever thrown up on anybody? i don’t think ON anybody, no

Do people think you’re happy? sure

What band would you stand in line for 24 hours to see? i don’t know

What was your worst childhood experience? I don’t remember, too many

You can trade another person’s emotions for your own. Whose do you take? no ones, mine are enough

What was/is going to be your first waltz at your wedding? huh?

When it’s not summer, what do you miss most about it? going outside and doing stuff

Do you consider yourself patriotic? Not at all

What is the one thing that you need to do to die happy? to be debt free and not have to worry about money

Do you consider yourself mainstream? no

What’s the riskiest thing you’ve ever done? i don’t know

What is life’s greatest mystery? no idea

What was your favourite make-believe game as a kid? i played a time travel game with my childhood friends on her trampoline

Do you try your best at everything? yeah

Who is your shoulder to cry on? My mom, sister, or bf

What’s your standard excuse for not doing something? no idea don’t usually have one ig

Name the most beautiful person you know. my mother

Have you ever been to jail? Nope

What is one moment you wish you could have taken a picture of? there’s soo many

What place holds the most memories for you? peoria, illinois

Who was your first date? ever??? i don’t even remember man

What’s the best trip you’ve ever been on? going to san diego with my bf and his friends was pretty fun

What do you think the earth will look like in 1,000 years? no idea but prob not good

Who makes you happy to be around? my bf and my family

Who/what is your everything? not one person is my everything

How many people have you turned down when they asked you out? i don’t keep track

How many exes do you have? i have no idea

Who was your worst relationship with? katie.  super toxic

What’s your ‘label’? (ex. punk, prep) I have no idea what other people would label me as

Do you swear? How much? Like a sailor.

What is the one thing that would make everything in your life fall apart? losing someone i love

What takes your breath away? animals

Are you patient? not one bit

Who would you call first in a life-threatening situation (not 911)? my boyfriend

Who do you miss? jayson, claire, michael, nikki, my mother and father, my sister, my brother

Do you like snakes? I love them

#bored #quiz #questions #survey

[dfroza]

how many give thought

that we’re being called up to a heavenly wedding?

for there are many who comprise the Bride (the Queen) of the True King

and rebirth of the heart through the Son is the only way “Home”

and marriage on earth is a mirroring of this. and did you know that it is not permissible in Love for a man to be sexual with another man, or a woman with a woman, as defined by gender at birth? this is spiritual truth, although some may disagree.

and life truly begins at the genesis spark of conception as a tiny seed (to be...)

and we are meant to respond to the call of the heart to “believe...”

and this is the beautiful mystery of becoming a child of our Creator which is what Paul describes in Today’s reading of the 9th chapter of Romans:

[God Is Calling His People]

At the same time, you need to know that I carry with me at all times a huge sorrow. It’s an enormous pain deep within me, and I’m never free of it. I’m not exaggerating—Christ and the Holy Spirit are my witnesses. It’s the Israelites . . . If there were any way I could be cursed by the Messiah so they could be blessed by him, I’d do it in a minute. They’re my family. I grew up with them. They had everything going for them—family, glory, covenants, revelation, worship, promises, to say nothing of being the race that produced the Messiah, the Christ, who is God over everything, always. Oh, yes!

Don’t suppose for a moment, though, that God’s Word has malfunctioned in some way or other. The problem goes back a long way. From the outset, not all Israelites of the flesh were Israelites of the spirit. It wasn’t Abraham’s sperm that gave identity here, but God’s promise. Remember how it was put: “Your family will be defined by Isaac”? That means that Israelite identity was never racially determined by sexual transmission, but it was God-determined by promise. Remember that promise, “When I come back next year at this time, Sarah will have a son”?

And that’s not the only time. To Rebecca, also, a promise was made that took priority over genetics. When she became pregnant by our one-of-a-kind ancestor, Isaac, and her babies were still innocent in the womb—incapable of good or bad—she received a special assurance from God. What God did in this case made it perfectly plain that his purpose is not a hit-or-miss thing dependent on what we do or don’t do, but a sure thing determined by his decision, flowing steadily from his initiative. God told Rebecca, “The firstborn of your twins will take second place.” Later that was turned into a stark epigram: “I loved Jacob; I hated Esau.”

Is that grounds for complaining that God is unfair? Not so fast, please. God told Moses, “I’m in charge of mercy. I’m in charge of compassion.” Compassion doesn’t originate in our bleeding hearts or moral sweat, but in God’s mercy. The same point was made when God said to Pharaoh, “I picked you as a bit player in this drama of my salvation power.” All we’re saying is that God has the first word, initiating the action in which we play our part for good or ill.

Are you going to object, “So how can God blame us for anything since he’s in charge of everything? If the big decisions are already made, what say do we have in it?”

Who in the world do you think you are to second-guess God? Do you for one moment suppose any of us knows enough to call God into question? Clay doesn’t talk back to the fingers that mold it, saying, “Why did you shape me like this?” Isn’t it obvious that a potter has a perfect right to shape one lump of clay into a vase for holding flowers and another into a pot for cooking beans? If God needs one style of pottery especially designed to show his angry displeasure and another style carefully crafted to show his glorious goodness, isn’t that all right? Either or both happens to Jews, but it also happens to the other people. Hosea put it well:

I’ll call nobodies and make them somebodies;

I’ll call the unloved and make them beloved.

In the place where they yelled out, “You’re nobody!”

they’re calling you “God’s living children.”

Isaiah maintained this same emphasis:

If each grain of sand on the seashore were numbered

and the sum labeled “chosen of God,”

They’d be numbers still, not names;

salvation comes by personal selection.

God doesn’t count us; he calls us by name.

Arithmetic is not his focus.

Isaiah had looked ahead and spoken the truth:

If our powerful God

had not provided us a legacy of living children,

We would have ended up like ghost towns,

like Sodom and Gomorrah.

How can we sum this up? All those people who didn’t seem interested in what God was doing actually embraced what God was doing as he straightened out their lives. And Israel, who seemed so interested in reading and talking about what God was doing, missed it. How could they miss it? Because instead of trusting God, they took over. They were absorbed in what they themselves were doing. They were so absorbed in their “God projects” that they didn’t notice God right in front of them, like a huge rock in the middle of the road. And so they stumbled into him and went sprawling. Isaiah (again!) gives us the metaphor for pulling this together:

Careful! I’ve put a huge stone on the road to Mount Zion,

a stone you can’t get around.

But the stone is me! If you’re looking for me,

you’ll find me on the way, not in the way.

The Letter of Romans, Chapter 9 (The Message)

Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments is chapter 30 of 1st Samuel where David and his people recovered all that was stolen from them:

[David’s Strength Was in His God]

Three days later, David and his men arrived back in Ziklag. Amalekites had raided the Negev and Ziklag. They tore Ziklag to pieces and then burned it down. They captured all the women, young and old. They didn’t kill anyone, but drove them like a herd of cattle. By the time David and his men entered the village, it had been burned to the ground, and their wives, sons, and daughters all taken prisoner.

David and his men burst out in loud wails—wept and wept until they were exhausted with weeping. David’s two wives, Ahinoam of Jezreel and Abigail widow of Nabal of Carmel, had been taken prisoner along with the rest. And suddenly David was in even worse trouble. There was talk among the men, bitter over the loss of their families, of stoning him.

David strengthened himself with trust in his God. He ordered Abiathar the priest, son of Ahimelech, “Bring me the Ephod so I can consult God.” Abiathar brought it to David.

Then David prayed to God, “Shall I go after these raiders? Can I catch them?”

The answer came, “Go after them! Yes, you’ll catch them! Yes, you’ll make the rescue!”

David went, he and the six hundred men with him. They arrived at the Brook Besor, where some of them dropped out. David and four hundred men kept up the pursuit, but two hundred of them were too fatigued to cross the Brook Besor, and stayed there.

Some who went on came across an Egyptian in a field and took him to David. They gave him bread and he ate. And he drank some water. They gave him a piece of fig cake and a couple of raisin muffins. Life began to revive in him. He hadn’t eaten or drunk a thing for three days and nights!

David said to him, “Who do you belong to? Where are you from?”

“I’m an Egyptian slave of an Amalekite,” he said. “My master walked off and left me when I got sick—that was three days ago. We had raided the Negev of the Kerethites, of Judah, and of Caleb. Ziklag we burned.”

David asked him, “Can you take us to the raiders?”

“Promise me by God,” he said, “that you won’t kill me or turn me over to my old master, and I’ll take you straight to the raiders.”

He led David to them. They were scattered all over the place, eating and drinking, gorging themselves on all the loot they had plundered from Philistia and Judah.

David pounced. He fought them from before sunrise until evening of the next day. None got away except for four hundred of the younger men who escaped by riding off on camels. David rescued everything the Amalekites had taken. And he rescued his two wives! Nothing and no one was missing—young or old, son or daughter, plunder or whatever. David recovered the whole lot. He herded the sheep and cattle before them, and they all shouted, “David’s plunder!”

Then David came to the two hundred who had been too tired to continue with him and had dropped out at the Brook Besor. They came out to welcome David and his band. As he came near he called out, “Success!”

But all the mean-spirited men who had marched with David, the rabble element, objected: “They didn’t help in the rescue, they don’t get any of the plunder we recovered. Each man can have his wife and children, but that’s it. Take them and go!”

“Families don’t do this sort of thing! Oh no, my brothers!” said David as he broke up the argument. “You can’t act this way with what God gave us! God kept us safe. He handed over the raiders who attacked us. Who would ever listen to this kind of talk? The share of the one who stays with the gear is the share of the one who fights—equal shares. Share and share alike!” From that day on, David made that the rule in Israel—and it still is.

On returning to Ziklag, David sent portions of the plunder to the elders of Judah, his neighbors, with a note saying, “A gift from the plunder of God’s enemies!” He sent them to the elders in Bethel, Ramoth Negev, Jattir, Aroer, Siphmoth, Eshtemoa, Racal, Jerahmeelite cities, Kenite cities, Hormah, Bor Ashan, Athach, and Hebron, along with a number of other places David and his men went to from time to time.

The Book of 1st Samuel, Chapter 30 (The Message)

my personal reading of the Scriptures for monday, October 19 of 2020 with a paired chapter from each Testament along with Today’s Psalms and Proverbs

A repost from October 19 of ‘19:

something i read for Saturday, October 19 that isn’t an easy task in this world, yet in Love we are instructed to do so:

A wise person demonstrates patience, for mercy means holding your tongue.

When you are insulted, be quick to forgive and forget it, for you are virtuous when you overlook an offense.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 19:11 (The Passion Translation)

we need to forgive and move on with life by letting go of the past so that it doesn’t continually haunt us.

10.19.19 • Facebook

Today’s message from the Institute for Creation Research:

October 19, 2020

Christ in You

“To whom God would make known what is the riches of the glory of this mystery among the Gentiles; which is Christ in you, the hope of glory.” (Colossians 1:27)

The New Covenant includes a mystery Paul had the privilege of revealing to the Gentiles (Colossians 1:24-29). The history and prophecies of the Old Covenant contained a few hints of God’s plan for the last days, but the focus was centered on the “fulness of time” when the Messiah would come (Galatians 4:4).

Paul seemed thrilled to “preach among the Gentiles the unsearchable riches of Christ” (Ephesians 3:8) and to have the responsibility of unveiling “the grace of God which is given me to you-ward” (Ephesians 3:2). More than the obligation, Paul felt a dread judgment if he failed (1 Corinthians 9:16). It follows that we should be clear in our own declaration of this mystery.

Simply put, the mystery is “Christ in you, the hope of glory.” Obviously, that is the result of salvation. The new message is the completed work and resurrection of the Lord Jesus. The promises of the prophets and the long history of Israel tend to obscure the eternal plan of God (Ephesians 3:11)—thus the detailed effort of the New Testament writers to amplify the “whosoever will” aspect of the gospel message.

“Of which salvation the prophets have enquired and searched diligently, who prophesied of the grace that should come unto you: Searching what, or what manner of time the Spirit of Christ which was in them did signify, when it testified beforehand the sufferings of Christ, and the glory that should follow. Unto whom it was revealed, that not unto themselves, but unto us they did minister the things, which are now reported unto you by them that have preached the gospel unto you with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven” (1 Peter 1:10-12).

Now it is possible for the whole world to have a personal and eternal relationship with Jesus Christ. HMM III

[deeptimesjournal]

There might be time to save your world… if you heed our warnings

My friends; I stand here before you as a woman born in the year 2140 in a small settlement on the island formerly known as Britain. I was chosen to travel to your time in order to warn you of the great suffering and disaster that lies ahead in the hope that you may be able to avert at least some of the worst effects of it.

Our oral traditions tell of your time; among the greed and chaos and violence, there were a handful of people who called themselves Shambhala warriors, Bodhisattvas, or eco-warriors.

We honour the sacrifices that they made in trying to defend life on earth, but their efforts were not enough. The majority of people remained ignorant, silent, and clung to their old Ideas.

I know that this is not what you want to hear, but around a hundred years before I was born, the island on which I live suffered a great series of disasters. The Great Pandemic had already wreaked havoc on the population, on their systems, and on general morale. Then the floods came, and it didn’t take people too long to realise that their leaders had no intention of coming to the rescue. They disappeared in their private helicopters, seeking higher ground while the majority of the population were left to fend for themselves.

My great-grandparents told of a time of great violence and bloodshed, as people fought over food, clean water, and dry land. In the absence of real leadership, the former titles and systems that had been in place for so long crumbled into obscurity and small bands and tribes started to form.

You want me to tell you that everything was OK; that somebody figured out an ingenious way to desalinate the seawater that flooded our shores. That some young genius came up with a way to turn the depleted and cracked soil into a source of nourishment and food for everyone, or that our collective will and love for the earth was enough to heal the pain in all of our hearts – the unresolved wound that cried to us “our grandparents forsook us; they didn’t care about us at all”.

When you grow up on stories of selfish, callous ancestors who valued their own pleasures above the lives of their descendants, it hardens the heart and causes its own type of apathy and callousness. My grandparents saw things, experienced things, even did things that

would haunt the dreams of even the hardiest warrior – all for the sake of bringing food and clean water to their own tribes.

But what about peace, you ask? Yes, we eventually came to peace. We eventually worked out what had gone wrong, and it is for this reason that I come to speak to you today. But do not think that the fact that we are at peace now means that you can relax, safe in the knowledge that everything works out OK in the end. We are still heading into extinction.

We, as humanity, are barely surviving in pockets around the globe – some of us in communication with each other, but we suspect there are far more of us who are unable to find a way to connect. Most of the waters are still poisoned, most species extinct, and there is still disease, famine, and weather so unpredictable that it is almost impossible for most people to rely on crops. We live more akin to the hunter-gatherers that roamed the earth thousands of years ago.

But yes, there is peace. Some of our elders tell us that this peace came about because of the Great Dream. It was a moment, they tell us, when the majority of the remaining humans received a simultaneous message from the Earth that filled their hearts with love and told them to lay down their weapons. But the more cynical of us, the younger of us who were not alive when this happened, suspect that the fighting stopped because everyone was too malnourished to pick up a weapon. We also have no idea what the majority of the globe is doing; we are able to communicate with parts of the world using relics from your time powered by the Sun, but it is nothing like the tsunami of information that you are familiar with in your time.

But what of the Great Turning, you ask? We do not remember it this way in our oral tradition. There is only the Great Collapse. But I have been given the magnificent task of guiding you in how you might steer your ship differently, so I will tell you where we went so wrong.

The main problem of the 21 st century was not fossil fuels or toxic waste or overfishing, but wilful ignorance. Your people turn off their hearts and minds to what they know is happening around the world; from what is happening to your oceans, to what is happening between your neighbours. From what is happening in the farms that collect beans for your coffee, to what is happening to the most vulnerable members of your own community.

We are told that people used to sit and beg for scraps of food on your streets, while others adorned in jewels and expensive fabrics would walk by, avoiding their eyes. It is not that you do not know what is happening, or that you do not understand the effects of climate change, poverty, discrimination, or mass species extinction. Your world is drowning in facts, figures, and statistics - the problem is that you cannot bear to look at those facts. You cannot bear to look at the beggar on your street in his eyes, because you fear the pain that it will strike inside your heart. Is it true that your society seeks pleasure, bliss and happiness in a way that is almost manic and desperate? That is your wilful ignorance. Happiness is not a destination; it is a fleeting state of mind that we must welcome, but trying to live in constant bliss is madness. Is it true that those of you who allow the pain and suffering into your hearts were labelled as defective, and sent to doctors or given medicines to try alleviating the visions? Those are your prophets and sages. Nurture them, listen to them, care for them and give them the space to train their gifts. These people are valued within my community, because they sensethings that others can’t and are vital in planning our next steps.

Your world is upside down. You venerate your insane and lock away the only ones who truly see things as they are. Your leaders are tyrants; they hoard wealth and resources for themselves while living in complete disconnection with the land and with their own hearts.

We cannot understand how you allowed them to rape the earth for the fleeting benefit of a few; did they do it in secret? Did they distract you? Did they keep you so poor that you had no time or means to fight back? Or was it just your wilful ignorance?

But opening your hearts to pain and fear is not enough. You need to open your minds, too.The Creator gave you a brain capable of producing miracles, and yet you fail to see that without electricity, your nuclear facilities will fail and pour toxic waste into the oceans and waters. You fail to consider the long-term impact of your actions, or to ask yourselves what will happen to the thousands of satellites in your sky when the systems that tell them where to go finally fail. When we hear of the amazing technology that was available in your time, we can only ask ourselves – was this truly a lack of intelligence on your behalf, or was it wilful ignorance?

My friends, I hope you will not turn away from my words with that same wilful ignorance that destroyed the planet. If my words sound harsh, then that is precisely a part of the problem – your world has trained you to tune out things that cause you discomfort, and to seek only the warm embrace of praise and validation.

When you open your heart to the earth’s pain, you will receive far more than you expected.You will receive the full blessings of living with an open heart; an existence far more colourful and deeper than you can imagine. To risk heartbreak is also to live fully, and it is only if you allow yourselves to live with open minds and hearts, rather than trying to avoid the discomfort, that you will have any hope of altering the course of history.

Full name: Gwyneth Jones 

Age: 33 (don’t know if I am “young” enough to be counted as the youth, haha)

A bio: Gwyneth Jones grew up in the magical lands of North Wales, although she currently lives in Prague, Czech Republic. She considers herself a hippie, science nerd, amateur gardener, eco-activist, Positive Psychology and Emotional Intelligence Coach, writer, Work That Reconnects facilitator, host of The Way We Connect podcast, and founder of the Reconnection Revolution group. Gwyneth hopes that we can transition away from the industrial growth society that is destroying our planet and towards a compassionate and sustainable world, but only if we reconnect deeply with ourselves, each other and Nature. (www.gwynethjones.coach)

[idonotknowhowtoo-blog]

How to Make Vanilla Extract

5 Tips to Consume Smarter Today

(With what's currently in your refrigerator!)

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When I learned how to make vanilla extract a couple of years ago, I realized I had the ideal One Size Fits The Majority Of gift. It's suitable for anybody from 10 to 100, male or female, as long as they a)love baking, or b)like baked goods (and have someone who bakes for them) Now, vanilla extract is easily offered, and can be found in nearly everyone's cupboards already. BUT as soon as you find out how to make vanilla extract you can make a superior product for less money in your own kitchen at very little expense that will wow and bless all your friends this Christmas. At the danger of being tacky, I'm gon na address all your concerns about how to make vanilla extract-- those of you who will receive a bottle from me please dis-remember this post due to the fact that my mother taught me it was bad taste to inform somebody just how much you invested on a gift!Can you actually make your own vanilla extract? Yes! And it's insane simple. I believe the only reason more people do not do it is 'cause it can be a little challenging sourcing the active ingredients. That

's why I'm gon na inform you exactly where I got whatever. What do

you require to make vanilla extract? Three things: 1. vanilla beans 2. alcohol 3. a bottle to put it in What kind of vanilla beans do you purchase? To my understanding, there are three primary kinds of vanilla beans. I use

the Madagascar or Bourbon bean as it produces the same taste as you would typically get in the supermarket, and is in the middle price range. I acquire my beans in

bulk from Amazon-- if you purchase an entire pound at when, you have enough beans for several years (ask me how I understand )and they cost less than$1 each. The beans are fragrant and moist, and keep for several years(again, ask me how I understand!). Here's a link to vanilla beans on Amazon. What type of alcohol&do you utilize to make vanilla extract? I utilize vodka since it offers me the most direct vanilla taste. You can also use bourbon, but it's gon na taste a little various than shop bought extract. The key&word here is" cheap". Any brand name will do. I buy it in the biggest bottle my liquor store carries,when it's on sale(I watch the advertisements ). I got a 60 oz bottle for$

17.82. For those who've never ever been in an alcohol store or purchased booze before( like me)it's clear, like water, and my bottle looks like this ... Do not hesitate to notify the cashier what you're really going to finish with 3 liters of vodka while you inspect it if it makes you feel more upstanding. How do you bottle vanilla extract? If you're making the vanilla on your own, you can utilize any old glass container, or just throw the beans right into the vodka bottle! However if you're gifting, you'll desire some good little 4 oz. bottles. I purchased beautiful, blue, recycled glass jars with corks one year, but since I've been using amber containers with nice little caps-- by doing this we can use the containers over

and over. Once again, Amazon has great costs and selection

-- here's a 12-pack of the type of containers I utilize. How to make vanilla extract: Pay close attention 'cause this is truly simple. Cut one vanilla bean in half, then in half again lengthwise.(scissors work fantastic ) Put all 4 pieces into your 4 oz bottle.

Fill bottle with Vodka Cap bottle, label

, and cover ribbon or raffia around for gifting Is that it? Well

, the vanilla needs to high for 4-6 weeks, with a periodic shake. The first year I made

my extract in October so it was all prepared for my recipients to use in their

vacation baking. I have actually not been quite on top of things ever since, so I simply tell

individuals to wait till

January. They do not seem to mind and like feeling associated with the process ("S hake it once in a while!"I inform them. They think it's so cool ). I likewise inform my friends that when the bottle gets half empty, they can add more vodka and let it set for a few more weeks to get the most out of the beans. Just how much does it cost to make Vanilla Extract? Well, if you buy your beans in bulk, your vodka on sale, and the containers by the case, this is the breakdown of what you might end up spending per bottle ... Jars--$1.00 Beans-- $0.75 Booze--$1.15 _____________ Overall--$ 2.90 I know-- it's almost laughable. A similar product(pure, without any additives )chooses $10-13! The very best part about making and gifting

your own vanilla extract is the thanks you'll receive for the rest of the year, 'cause this things really is exceptional to your run-of-the-mill extract. Your good friends will adore it, relish it, save it for their favorite dishes, and thank you each time they see you for this little bottle of elixir. (If the raving seems to be over the top, it may be due to the fact that they consumed the entire thing ideal beffore they called you, however I have yet to have that occur.)If you wish to make a big batch of vanilla extract for your own use, you can simply put 12-15 beans, snipped lengthwise, directly into a 60 oz bottle of Vodka, or pour it into a quart container or 2. I've made the making and gifting of vanilla extract an annual tradition at our house for numerous factors, however my preferred thing about it is that it

's something my kids can do with me. My kids snipped the beans all by themselves this year while I poured the vodka in the bottles. We did this together with pals a while back and in between 3 kids (ages 5-7 )with scissors and 2 mommies we made 30

jars of vanilla in 20 min. And young boy, did all of us smell good when we were done! This post includes affiliate links. Using a bloggers affiliate links to amazon or in other places for your shopping is a terrific method to bless your blogging pals at Christmas time! What's your finest method for streamlining Christmas? Ya'll have been sharing some excellent concepts in the remarks-- I value all the feedback and I'm takin'notes! melanie says Can you recycle the vanilla beans

when bottle is empty and make another round of vanilla extract by just adding more vodka? Or is truly only excellent for one time only? Fantastic concept!!! Melanie

Joanie says For a variety of

years, I have actually selected Christmas presents

all through the year. In the past, if I found something that would be perfect for a certain person, I would wait till closer to Christmas to purchase it, however typically, I couldn't discover the item again. I started purchasing them when I initially saw them. Not just does that keep me out of the stores and shopping malls throughout the crazy holiday season, it likewise spreads the expense through out the year. And, considering that I typically purchase the presents when I see them "on sale,"I save loan, so I have the ability to give good gifts with less cash spent. I do stitch and craft some presents, but then I encounter time deadlines that I'm not always able to fulfill. I do a few of my gift shopping by means of catalog business, such as Avon and Regal. My 4 adult kids have simplified things by having a Secret Santa draw among themselves and their partners. That way, each individual purchases one present, or each couple buys two presents, instead of buying gifts for everyone. They email their'wish lists'in a'round robin'email at the end of November or starting in of December. Given that they live anywhere from BC to Quebec, there is mailing included when the gifts are ready.

Joanie says Have I posted this comment in the wrong place?

Stacy says How do I make my beans last for years? Brenda states I've been doing this for a few years ... started when I had a kid old adequate and in another town to buy the vodka. The last bottles she purchased a marine commissary. That part sort of offers me hives. ANYHOW, at the end of the bottle (second time through with each naturally) I still wasn't nervous to simply discard the beans. I dried them in the dehydrator and put them in the mixer container. I use the resulting small pieces in my coffee maker (with coffee) for a fantastic taste. I believe they would be good in homemade ice cream too though I haven't tried that. Thinking of using them in water kefir ... anyone else have concepts for the "invested" beans?

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13th Birthday Gathering Ideas For Girls.

Swedish mail purchase new brides are the brand-new label in the cross cultural marital business. Absolutely your little bit of gal actually possesses images up in her room - images of pals and relatived and sentimental moments, photos affixed coming from publications as well as color-printed off the web, and also images she drafted and tinted herself. While they were not a poor family, Lopez remembers maturing in a small apartment that was actually "chilly in the winter, warm in the summertime yet hi, there was actually always rice as well as beans. " Her moms and dads instilled within her a powerful job principles and also emphasized the usefulness of consumption as well as being able to talk English. This indicates that a 'crook' really never receives the total female, however only the 'lady component' of the gal. Several of them stress that they will certainly never locate a gal for trip because nobody will be interested in taking read full article a trip along with all of them, for instance. As well as a few of those girls are as hot as she is actually. The best technique to approach a female is actually to favor about her dress - not her body system. The true guideline is actually consistently that a female might flush if you happen to share your emotional states for her in community. That was actually below 241th in 2004, when Lohan's popular film Mean Women" was discharged. This technique on ways to obtain expectant along with a lady was created by a mother which wished to possess a child woman after delivering six boys. Having said that, utilizing these alone might not offer the little one woman you would love to possess. He has actually spruced up lots of animations from the very early days and also is actually still a well-known actors personality at all the Disney areas. A contrast from the modifying fortunes of my personal first name, Barbara, with those of my spouse's title, Robert, provides a really good depiction from the difference in reliability between infant lady titles as well as baby child titles eventually. Birthed in Saumur, France, in 1883, Gabrielle Bonheur 'Coco ' Chanel was actually the misbegotten child from an outlet gal-- which would certainly die right after-- and a journeying agent-- who will desert his little girl on the roads of France. Many car suppliers have actually licensed Hot Tires making scale versions from their autos, allowing the use of initial concept blueprints and specificing.

Unlike other dining establishments serving Afghanistan's sizable expatriate area, the Afghan Landscape Cooking area works with a cadre of all-female chefs - teen Gal Precursors coming from busted residences, that is actually. So next the amount of time you bump into any type of women problems and also believe that some simple caring, get yourself out on a dance floor and method this memorable effective ways to caress a female technique all night long! There's a multitude of various other relevant information that each female must understand to absolutely receive her by means of adolescence along with peace of mind. This karaoke equipment is actually valued at merely around $20 as well as will create a wonderful gift for a Creature High themed birthday celebration event or for any kind of girl that likes Monster Higher toys. In my own encounters traveling and dwelling overseas in China, I have actually fulfilled a ton of young western side people that believe they might acquire any kind of Mandarin lady they as if, merely considering that they're foreign. Some are actually concerns you could negligence and some are actually inadequacies that you could not neglect on your most prominent day paying little hearken to the possibility that she was the absolute most charming, many scorching lady on the planet.

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Promotion To Little ones - Marketing and advertising To Youngsters - Dinosaur peppa pig full episodes toy Activate Youthful Mind

Customized Kid's peppa pig compilation toy: Gifts Which Will Be Cherished for a Lifetime

Almost nothing surpasses presenting a youngster one thing individual that may glow their encounter using a teeth. We have been inside a time of year, along with the overall economy, that each household is hunting to save cash in which they are able to. As a result supplying a present that may be added specific a complete need to. The reason why a great gift remarkable into the recipient? Consider a thing you received recently that is definitely awesome. The best items are those who are purchased and customized with me under consideration. Next time you must buy a gift for a kid consider using a individualized Peppa Pig games or possibly a personalized item that makes their freedom blossom. Sometimes it is hard to consider the best object. Ideally you will observe something sparks your desire for the strategies We have for you personally.

I enjoy gift ideas that are given to my youngsters that are individualized and make self-sufficiency. I enjoy the notion of a stool with the title colored or engraved about it. Furthermore, i love the very idea of having a photo of a passion such as football on the stool. Thus giving the child a sense of pleasure in this particular merchandise as it was created particularly for them. Feces are good since they make it possible for littler little ones the freedom of hitting points they generally could not. Isn't it great when a youngster can get to the potty without having aid or able to find a jacket right out of the closet with no taking it downward. This surprise is perfect for little ones that are trying to determine an independent nature.

A different entertaining gift is usually a customized clothes rack. These are great for apparel up items that little ones would normally keep inside a location unseen. When Peppa Pig em Portugues 2017 toy are silent and invisible they frequently go without getting performed with. Garments up garments add amazing type to your child's space exactly why wouldn't you want to display screen them. The best way to get this done would be to enhance your child's design and style which has a custom made garments holder. Put their label as well as the shades of these area. The clothes rack can become an instant success and may assist mother arrange outfit up garments to ensure they accessible for the children.

Peppa Pig em portugues brasil toy caddies are being popular items to personalize. Children desire to carry every little thing they own with these where at any time they go. This peppa kids toy makes it possible for this to happen within an structured fashion. My son has a peppa toy caddy and anytime he will grandma's he loads it with the Peppa Pig em portugues brasil toy he would like to enjoy when he could there be. And also this allows for all of the Peppa Pig Portugues toys to possess a destination to live when he is carried out having fun with them no matter where he or she is. Rather then needing to get each and every play doh kids toys toy they have delivered with him spread out during grandma's household all of them are quickly currently in their play doh kids toys caddy and ready to go home.

There are numerous fantastic concepts in relation to personalizing children peppa pig play doh kids toy. If you can imagine it, I just imagine, it occurs. From office chairs, bean totes and back packs there exists a thing that every single baby will really enjoy. The fact that you took the time to experience a personalised kid's play doh videos toys made for them will help make it their best for several years. Get creative when planning on those particular minimal men and women in your lifetime and individualize some thing right now.

Should you have appreciated this information from Kevin Germain at CPS remember to now in which there are actually valuable details on customized kid's peppa pig completo toy

Dinosaur peppa pig full episodes toys Stimulate Young Intellects

Some kids peppa pig completo toys will not be extremely psychologically challenging and moms and dads typically resist them in favor of informative play-doh toys. One thing that many very little young boys plus some small young girls appreciate would be the dinosaur. This ancient being fascinates them and mothers and fathers are grateful that dinosaur peppa kids toys are only as educational since they are enjoyable. Kids online games and Peppa Pig Brasil toy which has a dinosaur concept retain youngsters occupied for several hours.

 The youngest young children can also enjoy safe enjoy filled and blow up dinosaurs. As they age, they build capabilities to use instructional peppa pig completo toy showcasing various types of dinosaurs. Some examples are dinosaur puzzles and dinosaur game titles like checkers, chess, and credit cards. Mothers and fathers may also find a enjoyment fun game that permits children to serve as dinosaur bone fragments excavators.

peppa pig compilation toys models are perfect for any little one who wants a product to relax and play with and even acquire. These are equipped for kids ages 4 and older and include the allosaurus, dilophosaurus, and widely used T Rex, many of which have articulated capabilities. Parents can even get skeleton designs that glow at night.

Youngsters want to be on the job and dinosaur dig products let them excavate skeletons of diverse dinosaurs. If they found each of the bone, they may build them to create a design which can be posed and exhibited. A engage in set up is an additional great way for a kid to obtain involved and a number of these have a portable style that can be zipped up and located to hold parts harmless when not being utilised.

There are plenty of more dinosaur peppa toys created for kids of different age group ranges. Mothers and fathers may also uncover three dimensional dinosaur painting collections that enhance the artist within their kids as well as kids play doh kids toys toy that involve helping to make and designing 3D gemstones by using a dinosaur theme. The fixation with dinosaurs is not going to conclusion with playtime seeing as there are images, t-shirts, and bash favors offered.

For anyone who is trying to find the most up-to-date dinosaur better business bureau toys and games for the small son or girl, consider the StoreForKnowledge.com. Besides dinosaur peppa pig dublado toys, this online shop features a good amount of other educational peppa pig play doh kids toys that will help your child discover while they perform.

Marketing To Youngsters

"Oh, thats a tangled internet do moms and dads weave, after they imagine that their children are naive." - Ogden Nash

Little ones are offered to for a long time. Store sector titans have accepted that aiming for young children and receiving their customer loyalty can have on throughout their whole entire life. Now and again, this life time customer concludes the complete spiral and re-introduces a number of the identical manufacturers with their youngsters. Developing brand names within the thoughts in our little ones might be highly effective.

I recall joining the Pepsi-Tiger Lover Club being a kid. For about $30, I got tickets to decide on Detroit Tigers online games during the outfield, Pepsi wristbands, a sizzling pet dog along with a ingest, autograph images with a Pepsi emblem upon it, all manufactured in a very Pepsi small duffle handbag. My mom and dad would fill up the next door neighbor youngsters and we would really check out the online game. We had been fired up to be part of this membership and consequentially, it turned out no wonder that Pepsi was my drink associated with preference growing up. Membership at a really early age carried fantastic significance as a kid.

Kids want to truly feel significant in their day-to-day lives and in the life of the parents. Signing up for the Pepsi-Tiger Enthusiast Group intended a great deal to me being a child for the reason that it proven a feeling of achievement and acknowledgement to be a golf club associate. I became very pleased being linked to the Tigers and Pepsi was the benefactor of my refreshment tastes for several years. Developing advertising software programs which make children really feel important provides a great influence around their shopping for patterns down the road.

Below are a few things to consider for marketing and advertising to little ones:

Cause It To An Adventure: Youngsters really like interest and trip. Developing a chance to learn that also informs children of your merchandise is a wonderful strategy to charm their minds and commitment. Certainly one of the best adventures for kidsmarketing was doing retailer organized tours at Little Caesars. Little ones were able to find out how pizzas ended up created and usually, had been allowed to make pizza them selves and consume them soon after with the mothers and fathers. Almost always, Minimal Caesars had become the pizza pick of the family unit as fond memories of the adventure ended up recalled. An industry journey to Little Caesars was constantly top notch on the selection of wants.

It's A Digital World: It is a diverse planet right now compared to as i had been a child. In line with the Nationwide Consumers League, "practically six out from 10 parents of so-referred to as "tweeners" - young children aged 8 to 12 - have ordered cell phones with regard to their young children. Only 4Per cent of those tweeners have basic mobile phones without having any World wide web or text messaging entry. About half have mobile phone devices with sending text messages abilities, one more 20% have non-phones with texting and website entry and 27% have touch screen phones." That's a entire world that can keep growing and online marketers should be conscious the best way to touch it. Generating an fun connect to your merchandise as opposed to a unaggressive advertising campaign, can help concrete the memory space.

Walk Into Their Planet: If you wish to marketplace into a kid, believe like a young child. Much like the character Josh Baskin in the motion picture Major, the 12-calendar year-old changed 30, he will become effective making young children Peppa Pig em Portugues toys while he is actually, still a youngster. Enjoying the relationships of little ones with some other little ones or with products, gives a incredible peek into the way a child thinks. I frequently unwind and wonder at just how many signs little ones offer you simply by paying attention to them. A youngster, like Josh Baskin's character, will likely not keep back within their examination of your product or its characteristics. A child sometimes wants it or he doesn't and isn't essentially political appropriate with their viewpoint. Watch, listen closely and learn.

Turn Into A Hero To Their Mothers and fathers: Creating programs that reward young children and mothers and fathers is a gain-acquire. After I was at Tiny Caesars in addition to Clark Retail Businesses, I designed an effective discount coupon guide system in which young children available discount guides on our account as a way to bring up resources because of their squads. It turned out a simple-to-perform, effective plan that reaped the benefit teams, benefitted the mother and father by rearing resources and my corporation. The program's targets integrated: a) ease of performance; b) decreasing prices of sponsorship for that corporation; c) establishing the emblem in your community; and d) like a dollars-creator for your clubs. It accomplished all four and mom and dad were grateful for this software. Ultimately, the kids ended up satisfied and presented their patronage to the businesses.

In contacting young children, entrepreneurs usually depend upon the instant gratification offer you of your reward or peppa pig kids toys. Although that might record a child's eye when, this also commoditizes your products within their eye. I might reason that wanting to attain a kid on a deeper amount will build a greater support to the products and begin a life-long link.

John Matthews is definitely the founder and chief executive of Grey Kitten Enterprises, Inc., a focused organizing and advertising providers organization that specializes in helping businesses grow in the eating place, ease and common retail industry market sectors. With well over 2 decades of older-level experience with retail store along with a loudspeaker at retail industry-group of people events through the entire United states, Matthews has published two move-by-phase guides, Local Store Advertising and marketing Manual for Retailers and Grand Starting Handbook for Shops, which can be readily available

Vintage Peppa Pig em Portugues 2017 toy - Neighbor's Jealousy But Owner's Delight

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Collectible pig toy is often received from online auction marketplaces like eBay. There are numerous on the web play-doh toy merchants that have fantastic collections of kids' peppa toys that a great many individuals have donated to various business when removing their particular homes. The economic downturn has motivated several to quit valued play doh kids toys toy which are being sold not simply via craigs list, but also by means of other websites, print adverts, and classifieds. Classic stores are respected and reliable vendors of vintage pig toy but because they are complete because of their research, the peppa toy will also be heavily costed. Once again there are actually industry events where by dealers and purchasers gather to share and then sell play doh videos toys.

 When you need to decide on a present, that you are typically at a loss since the possibilities are so many that this will overwhelm you. Contrary to other Peppa Pig em portugues brasil toys, vintage peppa pig kids toy typically enjoy better elegance. These are fun presents for those of most decades like puzzles and table game titles, jigsaw puzzles, version trains, schuco, playmobil, etcetera. Table games happen to be preferred family activities for hundreds of years. Today their attraction offers reduced with all the go up of pc computer animated activities. These board online games are actually more of a interpersonal action where the full family could take element and also learn. Tin Peppa Pig em portugues brasil toy modeled on those of the earlier century are very popular collectibles. The next occasion you need to buy gifts, invest in collectible peppa pig games which can be both instructional and assurance hours of exciting. Dealing in these play doh peppa pig toy is extremely lucrative as well provided that it is amongst the biggest web crazes nowadays.

find out more on collectible play doh toys like table game titles and jigsaws on the internet that are drawing millions of buyers from everywhere over the planet. This page allows its audiences the thrills of an serious Peppa Pig Portugues toy retailer and possesses peppa pig portugues brasil toys for folks of every age group.

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Family Dinner | Ellen, Jo & Dean

Thread with joannahunts and the-ramblin-man -- moving thread history over here!  Please tag this blog on the next post that’s my turn :)

Jo wasn’t exactly looking forward to the night. She’d sort of sprung the night on both Dean and her mother, and she was sure there would be screaming before the night ended. That was exactly the reason she’d decided to leave Billie at home with a babysitter, where she’d be safely away from any fighting.

This would be Ellen’s first time seeing Dean since the two women had nearly died helping him. She had a very strong feeling Ellen wouldn’t be as willing to forgive the man as Jo herself had been. Jo only hoped that Ellen would understand that Dean was good for her, good for Billie. And that was all that mattered to Jo right now. She hadn’t exactly meant for Ellen to find out about Dean yet, they’d only been dating a few weeks so far, but Billie, excited about his visit, had spilled the beans about ‘Unca Dean’ spending the night and that she’d seen the two adults kissing and the next then Jo knew, Ellen was insisting on a dinner with the two of them.

As she walked towards the door to her mom’s front door, she desperately wished she’d brought a flash with her. She could really use a drink right now, a nice dose of liquid courage seemed pretty necessary. She was putting on a brave face, trying to convince Dean things would be alright, but she was sure he didn’t believe her. “You ready?” she asked, glancing to Dean for a moment before bringing a hand up to knock on the front door.

Facing Jo for the first time since the battle that almost claimed her life had been one thing. Somehow, despite the guilt he had over getting her involved, he had managed to earn her forgiveness and even her love. The relationship had been new, he wasn’t even quite used to calling her his girlfriend yet. It was also long distance in ways, but he still talked to her on the phone frequently and had even facetimed with Billie.

Yet now Dean Winchester found himself facing an entirely new challenge, one that nearly scared the sense out of him. He was confront Ellen for the first time in seven years. Not only that, but now he was dating her daughter. He knew they should have told Jo’d mother earlier, but it was too late for that now.

Heart racing, he stood beside his girlfriend as she nocked on the door. “No,” he answered automatically before trying to muster up a smile for her. He started to wish the three year old was there as a distraction….or at least a shield. Surely Ellen wouldn’t go for her shot gun if her granddaughter were there. Either way, Dean knew he was screwed.

Dinner.  That was the best course of action, right?  Ellen tried to remind herself that it’s what Bill would have done, or would have wanted to do, if she’d let him.  But hell if there wasn’t a damn precedent for this situation.  Her daughter was dating the man who nearly got them both killed, the son of the man who had gotten her husband killed.  Who could say they were inviting that history to dinner?

If it hadn’t been Billie who had “broken the news” so sweetly to her, she probably would have been even more livid.  Even if you set aside the Harvelles’ history with the Winchesters, dating a hunter was a whole lot more difficult and dangerous when there was a child involved.  It was one thing for Jo to get herself mixed up with “ramblin’ men,” but for her to drag Billie into this?  Alright, she was still pretty pissed.

She couldn’t blame them for keeping it from her, though; there was no way she could react well to the news.  She had long since stopped trying to tell Jo that she had shitty taste in men; the girl seemed to crave heartbreak, as far as her mother could tell.  But Dean Winchester was still a step too far, even if it wasn’t unexpected.

But Billie also made it pretty damn impossible for her and Jo to deal with shit like this the way they used to:  just stop talking until they needed each other again.  Her grandbaby would have none of that.  The little girl didn’t get tension, she didn’t get grudges, all she could understand was not being able to see her Nana, and she would throw a fit.  Which made Ellen smile a little.

So the only thing for it was to try to deal with the damn problem head-on.  As difficult as it was for Ellen to think of it as “three adults discussing the elephant in the room,” helping Jo raise a child had shown her a growth in her daughter that she might’ve struggled to see for a long time.  And Dean…  Well, hopefully seven years had made a damn bit of difference with that boy.

Recent years had given her some practice cooking again, though Billie hardly ate anything other than junk food anyway.  But she hadn’t timed the ham quite right, and there were still twenty minutes on the timer when she heard the knock at the front door.  She swore under her breath and shifted the green beans off the stove before she strode over to the door, still wiping her hands on her jeans.

“Hey, Jo,” she said automatically when she opened the door, and she raised eyebrows with surprise at just the physical change in Dean Winchester.  It hadn’t really occurred to her that he would have aged, as silly as that would sound out loud.  “Dean,” she said, and she couldn’t help the grim drop in her voice when she said his name.  She cleared her throat to try to bring it up again and stepped aside.  “Come on then, you’re lettin’ the bugs in.”

“Hey, Mom,” Jo said with a smile, resisting the urge to panic and run. She hadn’t been this afraid to talk to her mother since… well since she’d shown up at the Roadhouse six months pregnant. Reaching out, she grabbed Dean’s hand, pulling him inside after her. She knew he had to be panicking just as much as her, if not more. She was used to fighting with her Mother, Dean… not so much.

“It smells amazing in here,” she said, trying to stick to safe non-confrontational topics for as long as possible. “Oh, before I forget.” She paused for a moment, reaching into her purse to pull out a bottle of rather expensive whiskey, one of her mom’s favorite brands. “Saw this at the store and knew I had to get it for you.”

She offered the bottle to her mother, a gift, a peace offering, a bribe to hopefully keep the night running smooth. “I’m not sure Dean’s tried this brand,” she said, a slow smirk spreading across her lips as she glanced up at Dean. “His taste in whiskey is terrible sometimes,” she teased, knowing it wasn’t exactly true. Hunters tended to stick to what was cheapest.

While Dean’s heart was beating rapidly as he waited for the door to open, as soon as he saw Ellen, it stopped altogether. Or so it felt like. The disappointment was clear in her features and he swore he could even hear it in the way she said his name. It was the kind of the thing that he figured he should be used to at this point: disappointing parents.

Jo’s hand woke up him from his thoughts and he followed her in. As she presented the whiskey, he suddenly felt inadequate, as though he should have brought something as well. Would flowers be too cliche, he wondered. Mercifully, Jo tried to break the tension with a little joke. “Hey, my wallet would have to disagree,” he told her with a smirk. Their bickering over whiskey brands was almost a ritual at this point. Not that he minded. It reminded him of the days when they first met and would bicker over everything.

When he looked up to see Ellen again, the smirk disappeared. “It’s uh, been a while.” I missed you, sounded lame to him, even in his head. “You look good. It’s a nice house.” He was floundering, hoping she’d say anything to put him out of his misery.

Seven years had changed so much, yet as he looked at the woman he once called family, he could recall their last day together as though it were yesterday. She and her daughter had nearly died, all because of his plan. Shame made it difficult to even look her in the eye, but he held his ground as best as he could.

Ellen closed the door behind him and hadn’t really finished taking in the change in Dean Winchester when Jo called her attention to the bottle she was revealing from her purse.  A small smile spread on her lips, and she gave Jo a knowing look.  She knew what her daughter was trying to pull here, and she might even know where she’d learned that trick.  All the same, she appreciated it.  Just the fact that Jo wanted her to be here, to be happy for her, was a surprisingly good feeling.

Taking the bottle from Jo’s fingers, she leaned in to hug her with one arm.  “Thanks, baby girl.”  Straightening, she held up the bottle to see the actual label and gave Jo an impressed flex of her eyebrows.  “Buffalo Trace?  That’s a hell of a find!”  She was already walking over to the liquor cabinet, but the comment on the smell reminded her to check on the ham, so she set it down instead.  “Get a few glasses out, would ya?” she said over her shoulder as she dipped down to see into the oven.

Satisfied that it still needed a few minutes, she pulled the mitt off her hand and smacked it into the other absently.  Turning back around to face them, her eyes fell back on her nervous guest.  And realizing that he was nervous made guilt twist in her stomach.  With the physical growth digested, she couldn’t ignore that it was still Dean.  Not Jo’s boyfriend, not John’s son, not the idiot boy who almost got her and her daughter killed – just Dean.  The boy she’d babysat, the one she’d called for help, the one she knew, the one she had trusted.  And she’d missed him, too.

Dropping the mitt on the counter, she stepped up closer.  “You’re taller than I remember,” she told him with a tease in her voice.  Instead of raising herself up, she reached up to squeeze his shoulder and bring him closer so she could hug him proper.  “Or maybe you just look short next to your brother,” she continued when she withdrew.  “How is he?”

Jo couldn’t hide the proud smile as Ellen was impressed with her choice of whiskey. Sure, the gift was maybe a bit on the nose, her Mom was smart enough to know it was meant as a bribe, but… the woman seemed to accept it easily, so that was a good sign.

“Sure, I can do that,” she said with a nod. She was completely familiar with her mom’s home. They had dinners together basically every other week, and often they worked together to finish cooking the meal. She knew exactly how to find everything she might need.

Moving to find glasses, she looked to Dean and flashed him a reassuring smile. She could see nervousness written all over his face, and it was… more than a little adorable. She understood that feeling entirely, her stomach had been in knots all day, and despite the delicious smell wafting through the house, and the fact that she hadn’t eaten all day, she found she wasn’t actually hungry. She was too worried about the fight that would inevitably happen. Jo tried to hide that worry, though, and watched her mother carefully as the woman approached her boyfriend.

“Well… In Dean’s defense, everybody looks short next to Sam,” Jo piped in, smiling softly as she watched the two hug, hoping that was a sign of her mother’s forgiveness. She knew that wasn’t something that was given easily, but Dean deserved it.

As the women moved about, getting things ready for dinner, Dean felt entirely out of place. He shifted his weight, wondering what he was supposed to be doing. In any other situation, he’d feel perfectly at home and would be already working in the kitchen, even with no idea of where everything was. He mentally chided himself for acting so foolish. It was only Ellen.

Ellen. The woman he nearly got killed.

He took a steadying breath, but before he could say anything, he saw the older woman walking over to him. He wondered if this was when the fight would break out, but instead she smiled and hugged him. It was like the first time he had ever met her: awkward, yet oddly comforting. He patted her on the back in a half hug, feeling the nervousness start to subside. When she moved back, he looked to Jo with an amused smirk. “Yeah and you look like some elf thing next to him.” Their own height difference had amused him for some time, but seeing her stand next to his brother could be downright comical at times.

“He’s good,” Dean finally answered as he turned back to Ellen. “We’re livin’ in that old bunker now, dunno if Jo told you. With Cass. They’re good. All things considered.” There was always a new big bad to fight which tended to put a strain on things, but for the time being, there weren’t too many complaints aside from the British Men of Letters. Things had certainly been worse. “What about you? It’s good to see you again. What are you doin’ these days?”

“A Bunker?” Ellen asked, eyebrows raised high as she looked between them.  “Sounds like something Bobby would’ve loved.”  The words were out of her mouth before she realized they’d hurt, and she tried to force a smile as she stepped back and took one of the glasses Jo had finished pouring bourbon into.

“Good to hear Sam’s still in the game.  Kinda surprising though.  And Cas is still around, too?” she asked idly as she sipped the drink and pulled serving dishes from the cabinet.  It was intended to be small talk, but such things were dangerous and full of landmines for hunters.  Nearly anything could be a trigger for an unpleasant conversation.  But they were adults here, as they were so insistent on making clear.

Turning to Jo as she shifted green beans into a dish, she asked, “Who did you leave Billie with?”

#☁ |¦ you mind your tongue with me ¦| ~ Ellen Harvelle #p: family dinner #joannahunts #theramblinman